Merger By Matrimony

That little wimp she had brought with her to the theatre was no match for her. She needed a man, a real man. Him, in other words. And she damned well knew it. It was written in every word she didn’t say and in every expression she tried so hard to conceal.

Henri. That was his name. Callum had met Stephanie the evening before; their conversation had no longer been strained by the invisible pressure hanging over their heads that they were an engaged couple, and should therefore be frantic to climb into the nearest convenient bed, and he’d managed to pump a fair amount of information out of her.

They would discuss this Henri character just as soon as they had reached their destination. He was pretty good at reading body language, and from what he had glimpsed mutual sexual attraction had not been on the agenda, but still, they had appeared relaxed with one another—and relaxed was always a bad sign.

‘Is this a restaurant?’ Her voice broke through his reverie and he realised that the taxi had stopped and she was now looking past him to his townhouse.

‘In a manner of speaking.’ He opened his door, paid the driver, leaving a generous tip and waited impatiently for her to exit the taxi.

‘What do you mean, “in a manner of speaking”?’

‘I mean there’s food inside.’ He hustled her along, preparing himself for the inevitable explosion—which occurred just as soon as she was through his front door.

‘It’s your house, isn’t it?’ She turned to him, her cheeks flushed with colour.

Instead of answering, he calmly switched on the hall light. ‘How do you like it?’

‘You brought me to your house! You told me that we were going to a restaurant!’

‘I did no such thing,’ he demurred. ‘I told you that I knew somewhere we could get something light to eat.’

‘You lied! I demand to be dropped back to my house! Immediately!’

‘Why?’

‘Why? Why? Because—’

‘Promise…no touching…’ He held up both hands, palms towards her. ‘At least, not unless you want me to…’ he added very softly to himself. ‘Food and a bit of business. I need to wrap this matter up with the company within the week.’

‘You do?’ Destiny asked hesitantly. ‘Why? You never mentioned a deadline for my decision.’

‘Business runs on deadlines,’ Callum informed her, improvising as he went along and managing to usher her into the kitchen while she ruminated over what he had said. ‘I have my board breathing down my neck, wanting to know whether we’ll be acquiring Felt’s. My accountants need to know how to distribute the money with year-end coming up.’

‘But I can’t give you an answer,’ she said from behind him, while he started extracting pots and pans and cooking ingredients from various cupboards and the fridge.

‘Why not? What’s the problem? I’m offering to practically bail you out.’ Now that he’d managed to get her into the kitchen, it seemed as safe a policy as any not to focus his attention on her. She had forgotten that she’d been brought to his house against her will. No point reminding her of the fact by trying to stare her down.

‘Yes, well…’ She shuffled over to the kitchen table, which was constructed of wood and chrome and was very high-tech-looking, and ran her hands over the smooth surface. She sighed and looked at him as he chopped vegetables and expertly tossed things in a frying pan. Whatever he was cooking, there were some very reassuring smells emanating from it.

‘Do you need any help?’ she asked awkwardly.

‘No. Just sit. I’m fully capable of cooking a simple meal for two without help. Don’t guarantee how it’s going to taste, but it’ll be better than nothing.’

‘Smells good,’ Destiny said politely, raising her voice to compensate for the sound of sizzling, then she lapsed into silence, content to look.

Within ten minutes he began fishing plates out and allowed her to lend a hand by laying the table.

‘Now, eat and enjoy,’ he commanded when he was finally sitting opposite her with the overhead light dimmed—which he had jokingly told her was a famous ruse of the uncertain chef, who preferred to spare his audience too much clarity when it came to his food.

‘It tastes…delicious.’ There was a lot of pasta, and he had stir fried vegetables with cream and parmesan cheese which soaked into the noodles like gravy.

‘Good. So…I couldn’t help noticing at the theatre that you arrived with a man… Looked a nice guy… Who was he? Friend of Steph’s?’

‘How did you manage to pick us out among all those people?’