Chapter Twenty-six

“Oh, and here’s your laptop. Cal’s fixed it, done it for nothing in fact, as a favour. He said he’d got all the bits in his workshop.”

“Willow, what’s the matter? You’re talking fit to bust here. Is something upsetting you?”

I paused, fork halfway to my lips. Was it my paranoid imagination or did he think I’d been checking up on him? What kind of person did he think I was? Apart from blindingly stupid and gullible, obviously. “No, everything’s fine.” I swallowed a mouthful of venison. “Just a bit jittery. I can’t make my mind up about getting married. I mean it’s so expensive. I looked at dresses yesterday with Katie, some of them were over a thousand pounds.”

Luke clicked his tongue. “That does seem a bit steep.”

“And I thought, what’s the point in wasting Ganda’s inheritance on stuff I’ll only wear once. I’d rather save it for, you know, investing.”

I watched his face carefully, but he was good. Bloody good—he never so much as twitched a muscle. “At least investing it will get you a return.”

Not if I invest in you, sunshine, I thought, suddenly vicious. You only proposed to me so that you could talk me into putting everything in joint names, then sue me through the courts for your half. I forced down another venison sausage, but couldn’t resist a quick stab. “And if we get married I wouldn’t put up with any bad behaviour from you, you know.”

Luke gave me a cheeky grin. “You quite like my bad behaviour.”

I pretended to laugh. “Not that sort.” And anyway, Cal’s ‘bad behaviour’ knocks yours out of the window. Now there’s a man who knows how to be BAD. “I meant, if you were unfaithful or anything.”

Luke poured more wine, clinked glasses with me. All without a flicker of guilt. “Willow, married to you, why would I stray?”

“Excuse me a second, Luke, I need to…powder my nose.” I almost ran from the restaurant, clutching my napkin to my mouth and only just making the Ladies before dinner returned in an unsightly rush. How dare he? How could he? How was it possible for anyone to lie so convincingly? It had strained every facial muscle I had to tell him that I’d got a “slight infection down there” and the doctor had recommended no sex until it cleared up. His disappointment had been obvious, but then I supposed it must be a perk of the job, having rampant sex to convince me of his honest intentions.

“So. How’s the business?” was my bright opener when I returned.

“Not too bad. Showroom’s getting there, I sold the Morgan yesterday, hence.” He indicated, with a wave of his knife, the undoubtedly expensive restaurant we were eating at. Equally undoubtedly paid for with part of the twenty-six grand he’d had out of me so far. “I’ve had a few other leads on cars that might be up my street. One in Michigan, if I can afford to fly out for a look.” No movement, not even his eyelashes stirred my way.

“Oh? Well, if it’s a sure thing, maybe I could give you the cash to get out there?”

“I’m not committing until I know it’s a really good deal. But thanks, I’ll let you know.”

I bet you will. “Um, Luke.” My hands started to sweat under the table and I surreptitiously wiped them on the linen tablecloth. “I’m going tomorrow to see Ganda’s invention?” Why did I phrase it as a question? Duh. Come on, Willow. “So I’m hoping that they’ll give me at least part of the money soon.”

“Oh.” Affecting total nonchalance.

“Only, I was thinking.” I hoped he didn’t hear the sudden intake of air. “I’d really like to invest some of it in your business. And, I was thinking, what about if the following weekend we go away somewhere? I thought, kind of, a hotel somewhere really special. I’d book it and everything, as a celebration.” Tinkly little laugh. Was I going too far?

“I think that sounds very nice.” Maybe there was no too far where Luke was concerned. “Next weekend, you said?” A dip into his pocket and he drew out a brand new, very expensive, palm-top computer, pressed a few keys. “Yeah, that all looks pretty free. Um, just so I can let the bank manager know, how much were you thinking of investing? Sort of? I mean, you don’t have to be precise, obviously. It won’t matter one way or another, but, ball-park figure?”

“I was thinking about a quarter of a million. Would that do?”

A double blink. That was the only sign he gave that he was impressed. “Two hundred and fifty thousand? That sounds very generous. You should get a nice little return on that, depending on sales, but James is doing well with the cars in Boston, so…”

I let out a small breath of relief. James obviously hadn’t told Luke about the phone call, which was just as well. I’d had to work out a cover story rivalling The Da Vinci Code in its impenetrable complexities to prevent Luke from finding out exactly how much I knew about his activities, and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure of being able to remember it without cue cards.

Oooh, and that was a big, filthy lie there, Mr. Fry.

“Great. Anyway, I’ll always hold a share of the cars, as security. So I know you won’t rip me off, ha ha.” Ha bloody ha, indeed.

Luke and I finished dinner and I pretended annoyance at not being able to take up his offer of “going back to the flat for a bottle of champagne”. I told him to put it on ice for me. With any luck it would get frostbite and drop off.

“Goodnight then, Willow.” He dropped me at my front door, his attempted vigorous kiss being narrowly averted by my pretended interest in next-door’s cat on the wall. “See you in a couple of days?”

“Not tomorrow?” More pretended annoyance.

“Well, I’m a bit busy. Got some architect coming round with plans for the showroom interiors. Several companies are pitching for it, so I like to be there in person to see what they’re offering. Anyway, you’re off to the council tomorrow, aren’t you? And then it’s the weekend and I’m going to Wales to visit Da.”

“Maybe we should save ourselves for next weekend then. And,” I dropped my voice flirtatiously, “by then I should have the all clear from the doctor. I’m rather hoping to give you an absolutely unforgettable time.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll pop in and see you, to make sure it’s all okay.” He revved the engine of the big black car (I wondered who it really belonged to) and set off.

I did a little pavement dance of glee and hopped into the Metro, which Luke had failed to notice parked at the end of the road. Cal was sitting inside reading Jasper Fforde and wearing a huge Panama hat as a disguise.

“He’s gone for it. Weekend after this. Will that give us long enough? How are the boys getting on?”

Cal pulled the hat off and shook his hair free. “Pretty bloody well, since you ask. I know how to pick a team and I think they’re impressed with you. Firstly, the deviousness of your mind, and secondly I told them about the thing with the melon.”

“It wasn’t a melon, it was a tangerine, and kindly don’t bandy details of my private life about with your mates.”

“Aw, go on.”

“Well, all right, but only the stuff that makes me sound good.”