Savage Courtship

That wretched word again! Vanessa produced a feeble smile. Thank goodness Richard was sitting opposite across the table instead of on the banquette seat beside her, and had his back to the open foyer. With any luck the hostess would just explain to Benedict that the restaurant was full and send him on his way. The kitchen shut down at eleven, and it was nearly that now, although the restaurant itself didn’t close until midnight and people usually made the most of their night out by lingering over special coffees or to dance in the small adjoining room where the chef’s wife played the piano. Anyway, no one got in these days without a reservation. But if Richard saw him he was bound to acknowledge him in his usual polite way, perhaps—horror of horrors—even invite him to join them!

‘Some wine went down the wrong way,’ she explained hurriedly, and with perfect truth.

Just in time she saw the light glint off Benedict’s spectacles as he lifted his head to look into the room over the hostess’s shoulder and she brushed her dessert fork off the table with her elbow and ducked down to pick it up in one fluid movement.

‘Whoops, excuse me!’ Her head pressed against the bottom of the table, she pretended to grope for her lost implement, her heart thumping as she congratulated herself on her quick reflexes.

‘Don’t worry about it, Van; I’ll get you another one. You won’t be able to use one that’s been on the floor, anyway.’ Too late Vanessa saw the flaw in her impulsive plan. Richard had already raised his voice to attract the attention of their waitress. ‘Excuse me, Kylie, could we have another fork here?’

Half crouched under the table, Vanessa closed her eyes and prayed, deaf to the soft hum of conversation and discreet clatter of crockery and cutlery from the patrons around them. All she could hear were the approaching footsteps that sounded like the knell of doom.

‘Thanks. Just leave it, Van. Kylie’s brought another one.’

Vanessa’s panic eased a moment too soon at his quiet reassurance. She was cautio

usly beginning to ease upright as she heard Richard suddenly rise and say, ‘Hello, Savage. What are you doing here? I thought you were up for some big award in Auckland tonight?’

Vanessa froze, thinking stupidly that she hadn’t known Benedict was in line for one of the awards, as she listened to the casual reply. She opened her eyes and saw the polished black shoes planted beside the table leg. Shoes that she herself had buffed to their shellac shine the previous afternoon.

‘I was. I decided to come back early.’

‘Come straight from there, I suppose?’ Richard guessed, obviously looking at the white jacket as he ventured another sympathetic guess. ‘Missed out, did you? I don’t blame you for ducking out early. Those type of things can certainly drag on if you don’t have anything to celebrate. But if you called in here for a nightcap on the way home you made a bit of a mistake; they don’t run a separate bar.’

‘So I just discovered.’ There was an excruciating pause, then he said sardonically, ‘I hesitate to sound indelicate, but whatever your companion is doing under the table she seems to be doing very thoroughly. That is, I assume it is a woman?’

Richard, the idiot, saw it as a joke rather than the subtle insult that made Vanessa go hot all over. ‘If you saw her dress you wouldn’t ask that question! Are you running out of air down there yet, honey?’ he said, his voice threaded with wicked laughter.

It was all so humiliating, Vanessa thought as she clenched her teeth and slowly unfolded herself, the errant fork clutched in her sweaty palm.

She knew that her face was red and her hair was falling all over her face. She was certain that Benedict knew who she was and was just doing this to embarrass her. Sure enough, when her eyes emerged far enough to peep sullenly over the table-top, she could see an expression of malicious satisfaction on Benedict’s face as he glanced at Richard.

For her he had a faintly quizzical smile as she reluctantly sat upright, his eyes sinking to the exposed cleft between her breasts before lifting, lifting as she straightened to her full height. The quizzical amusement faltered as his gaze went over the thick blanket of hair that she quickly tucked back behind her ears.

It vanished entirely when he looked back at her flushed face, really looked this time, and she knew that he hadn’t realised, not until then. He had thought Richard was dining with some other woman.

‘Flynn?’

Her smile was a mere twitch. ‘Hello, Mr Savage; fancy seeing you here.’

Her attempt at bright surprise fell flat as a lead balloon. He stared at her, his eyes leached from blue to sleet-grey as he leaned back so that he got a better look at the hair rippling down between her shoulder-blades.

A nervous tic suddenly began to pull at the skin on his left temple and Vanessa began a fatalistic countdown to the imminent explosion. She could only hope that his rigorous self-control and distaste for emotional display would rescue her from complete public annihilation!

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS Richard who unknowingly defused the ticking time bomb.

‘Why don’t you sit with us and have your drink?’ he suggested blithely. ‘Van and I are just waiting for our dessert. I’m sure the management won’t quibble if they know you’re our guest. After all, you don’t look as if you’ll cause any trouble.’

Little did he know, thought Vanessa as, to her horror, the offer was smoothly accepted.

‘Why not? Unless Van objects. Do you...Van?’

She wished he would stop saying her name like that. It was enough to make her hair curl—if it hadn’t been a coiled mass of ringlets already.

‘Why should I object?’ she squeaked bravely.

‘I don’t know...guilt, perhaps.’