It took nearly a quarter of an hour as it happened, due to the inevitable roadworks that always sprouted around lunchtime, but as the Bentley turned off the main thoroughfare and through two enormous wrought-iron gates into a small courtyard her stomach took a nosedive as she gazed at the impressive establishment in front of them.
'Reece, I'm not dressed for somewhere like this,' she began quickly, but he had left the car to walk round to her door and her words were lost in the air.
'What did you say?' He helped her out, his hand firm on her arm.
'I said—' She stopped abruptly. This was the sort of place he frequented all the time, and he already knew what she was wearing. If he was quite happy to bring her here she would carry it off… somehow, but she just knew that all the women would be in designer suits and elegant, wildly expensive dresses.
They were.
'Your usual table, Mr Vance?' The head waiter appeared as though by magic as they walked into the restaurant and Reece smiled warmly.
'If it's free, Raimondo; we haven't booked, I'm afraid.'
'I'm sure it's free, sir. If you and the young lady would like to follow me…?'
Once seated at a secluded little table for two, she drew breath and glanced about her. It really was a beautiful place, she thought weakly, and the people… Surely that was Geraldine Pace, the famous actress? She spotted several more celebrities within seconds, and tried not to gape. 'Now tell me this isn't better than a sandwich at your desk?' Reece raised sardonic eyebrows and she tried to muster an aplomb she didn't have.
'Just,' she admitted with a faint smile, glancing down at the heavily embossed menu which the waiter had given her once she'd been seated. There were no prices next to the dishes listed, which spoke volumes about the clientele, she thought weakly. What a place! If Mitch could see her now. The thought reminded her of the old song and her lips twitched in spite of herself.
'What?' Reece leant forward as he spoke. 'Tell me.'
'Tell you?' She gazed at him in surprise.
'What you were thinking just then that put that smile on your lips.'
'I—' She found that she was about to tell him, and stopped herself just in time. That note of command in his voice, the authority, was very hard to resist, and just at the moment her defences didn't seem to good. 'Why?' She gazed at him, the soft, discreet lighting in the restaurant turning his face into shadow, softening the harsh male lines. 'Why do you want to know?'
He shrugged as he sat back in his seat, his face sardonic. 'To answer a question with another question is a good ploy, Miss Bennett,' he said mockingly. 'I use it myself in business often.' He glanced round the restaurant, his eyes narrowed slits of silver. 'Everyone desperate to see and be seen,' he said softly, his gaze moving back to her face after a long moment. 'You find all this a little ridiculous, Miriam?'
'Ridiculous?' She stared at him in surprise and then shook her head quickly as she realised what he meant. 'I wasn't thinking about that, Reece—nothing so high-minded, I'm afraid.'
'No?' He sat up straighter, his eyes on her face. 'You like this, then, it appeals to you?'
She didn't quite know how to reply, and stared at him for a second before she decided that honesty was the best policy. 'I think it's wonderful—for a change,' she said politely. 'But I don't think I would want to live like this all the time. Not that it's without its appeal, but I think I must be more of a bread-and-butter girl than a soufflé type. I like to mess around in old jeans and take the dogs for a hike in the rain. Things like that, you know?' she finished awkwardly.
'Not really.' The dark face was quite expressionless.
'But this is really lovely—'
'For a change. Yes, I know,' he said wryly, with a small twist to his mouth that didn't speak of amusement.
She was immensely thankful that the waiter chose that moment to appear at Reece's side, head bowed deferentially, and after they had ordered she sipped tentatively at the cocktail the head waiter had brought to the table just after they had been seated.
'This is delicious,' she said, forcing a smile. 'And, Reece, I can't thank you enough for what you did. Whatever you say, I'm sure that man intended…' Her voice trailed away on a little shiver. 'Well, you know what he intended.'
'I know what he wanted you to think he intended.' Reece said calmly, 'but being hauled up on a rape charge is a sight more serious than threatening behaviour. The guy was trying to scare you, but I'll make sure they won't be back. You have my word on that, Miriam.' He smiled lazily. 'And now relax and enjoy your meal; that's an order.'
Relax? she thought incredulously. If she were seated opposite anyone else—anyone else—she might just be able to loosen up and unwind, let the beautiful surroundings and good food work their magic, but with Reece Vance within a hair's breadth? No chance.
The meal was delicious. The salmon canapés on their bed of green salad melted in the mouth, the grilled lamb cutlets with orange glaze sauce were cooked to perfection, and the cinnamon apple pie buried under its covering of thick double cream was out of this world.
Miriam couldn't help glancing round the other diners as she ate, noticing the languid, uninterested consumption of food in one or two areas accompanied by affected hand-waving as half-full plates were taken away by the ever attentive waiters, and the bottles of champagne being opened with monotonous regularity on certain tables. What posers!
The thought had popped into her mind of its own accord, but once in place she realised that it was absolutely right. There was one woman in particular who was enjoying being the centre of attention in her own little group, the men in the party leaning forward to catch her every word and the other women all sitting quietly with ingratiating smiles. She was sitting in profile to them, her body turned away, but from tine little Miriam could see she was obv
iously outrageously beautiful in the delicate blonde way most men loved.
Reece had proved to be an attentive lunch companion, with a wickedly dry sense of humour, although he rarely smiled himself. There was a brooding quality to him, and Miriam couldn't rid herself of the impression that he was viewing the world as a stage, with the rest of them as performers, while he remained at a distance from them all, laconic and reserved. It was… disturbing.