‘No!’ She clicked her remote and yanked open the door of her car. ‘I mean, no, it wouldn’t, because I don’t actually work at Aubrey’s branch.’
‘Well, where do you work?’
‘In London,’ Charlotte admitted reluctantly. ‘But I have a good track record with selling grand old houses, and Aubrey likes to think that that makes me some kind of expert.’
‘Handy when the boss gives his employee special favours.’ Riccardo wondered whether this was the fiancé, to whom she was as good as married, bar the details. ‘Is this the soon-to-be bridegroom?’
‘The…? Oh.’ She remembered her passing remark about Ben, that distance-creating manoeuvre that hadn’t worked. Poor Ben. What would he think if he knew that he had featured as a likely fiancé? She grinned, her first genuine smile of real amusement. ‘No. No, Aubrey isn’t any bridegroom in the making. In fact, he’s very happily married and twice my age, height and girth. Father figure sooner than bridegroom, I would say.’
Riccardo watched that smile, just the shadow of it, in the swiftly descending gloom and drew in his breath sharply. He’d remembered that, kept the image of it somewhere in his head, even when time had moved on. Curious. And unsettling.
‘So, who is the lucky man?’ he asked lightly, and Charlotte couldn’t find a reason not to name a name. It would have been odd if she had tried to withhold the information, she reasoned, because women on the verge of marriage were supposed to be happy and proud of the fact.
‘Ben.’
‘And Ben is…?’
‘Oh, the usual. A man. Couple of arms, couple of legs, head.’
Riccardo gave a rich, throaty chuckle of amusement, and in the darkness Charlotte blushed and remembered that she needed to be on her way, far from the man standing in front of her, who it seemed still had the ability to get her hot and bothered. She had to get back to her daughter.
Their daughter, her mind flung back at her.
‘And what does the arms, legs and head do?’
‘Nothing! I really must be off now. I don’t want to end up driving in the dark. Especially as it’s such a long drive back to London.’
‘Surely if your boss has such a high opinion of you he would get you somewhere to stay for the night, save you the drive down?’
‘Oh, no, I can’t stay here!’ No sooner were the words out than she wanted to swallow them back down. ‘I mean…I mean…’
‘I know what you mean,’ Riccardo interrupted her brusquely. ‘Young love. I guess the man whose job is nothing is waiting for you somewhere in London with a spread in the oven and candles on the table. You have to be careful, you know.’
‘Careful? Careful of what?’ It was difficult keeping up with him, especially when his conclusions were so far off-target—a fact for which she was extremely grateful.
‘Men who kick off a relationship by making sure you’re chained to them. It might be flattering to start with, but no one enjoys being a captive.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Charlotte said waspishly. It particularly made no sense, considering she and Ben were still in a ‘maybe, maybe not’ situation. Nevertheless, in view of the fact that she had been creative with the truth, Charlotte felt morally obliged to defend his good name. ‘I’m not a captive, for goodness’ sake.’
‘Then why the panic?’
‘I really have to go.’
‘I’m heading down to London myself. I could always follow you, make sure you get to your house safely, for old times’ sake. These roads can be treacherous in winter.’