Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [144]
`Her place, actually.'
Serves me right for asking, thought Miranda. Bravely she said, `Is she a good cook?'
Danny thought about this.
`Pretty good. Well, she did one of those Cordon Bleu courses a few years ago.'
Oh well, haven't we all?
And is she good in bed? No, no, mustn't ask that, Miranda told herself, breaking into a light sweat. Phew, thank goodness she hadn't actually said the words aloud.
Talk about a dead giveaway - there were some questions you only ever asked a man if you were besotted with him, secretly or otherwise, and this was one of them. The other great no-no being, `So, I suppose you're going to marry her?'
Uttered, needless to say, through gritted teeth. Definitely mustn't ask him that.
`Right. Coffee.' Lightheaded with relief at having giver those two a miss, Miranda leaned on the cafetiиre's plunger grabbed a pile of coffee cups and clattered everything on to a tray. She wondered if Danny had inveigled the title of the blonde's favourite childhood book out of her and surprises her with a copy, too. It was probably a standard ploy he used, to win girls over and convince them how wonderful he was.
Footprints in the Snow, thought Miranda, tuh. Muggins Rides Again, more like.
`You just wait until tomorrow,' said Danny.
She looked up at him, startled. `Why? What happen: tomorrow?'
`You'll be recognised. Everywhere you go, people who saw the programme will come up to you and tell you how wonderful you are.' He grinned. `Trust me, it'll happen.'
Huh, fat lot of use that is, thought Miranda. If everyone else thinks I'm so wonderful, why can't you think it too? Biting her lip, she rummaged in the cutlery drawer for tea spoons. `Just as well, then, that I'm not going out much.'
Five teaspoons. Sugar. What else was missing? Ah cream..
`Look.' Danny hesitated and pushed his hair out of hi; eyes. `You've been through a lot and I know these things
take time to get over, which is why I'm not pressuring you.
But if you do ever feel like going out, give me a ring. I mean it. Any time, okay?'
Miranda winced. Oh dear, those three little words that were another dead giveaway. Everyone knew that when a man says he means it, he doesn't mean it.
Still, he was being polite, she had to give him that.
Even if he did sound as if he was thanking some dotty great-aunt for the gorgeous crocheted tank-top she'd given him for Christmas.
`Right, definitely.' Plonking the cream jug on top of the saucers and picking up the tray, Miranda said brightly, `That'd be great.'
Me, you and Ms Cordon Bleu. Oh yes, couldn't get much cosier than that.
Several weeks passed. One Tuesday at the end of October, Chloe was working in the shop when the bell above the door went ting.
`Hello,' said Greg.
Even though she'd been expecting him, her stomach squirmed. So did the baby. Probably wondering who the total stranger was, walking through the door, thought Chloe. Don't worry, pet, no one important, only your father.
`Hello, Greg.' Laying down the order slips she'd been filling out, she glanced first at her watch then across at Bruce. `Okay if I take my lunch break now?'
`Take it, take it.' Bruce nodded vigorously, jowls aquiver. As the owner of a gift shop stacked with china and glass, he was all in favour of members of staff holding their marital disputes off the premises.
`I'll be back by one.' Chloe pulled on her coat, aware of Greg's gaze on her expanded body.
`Don't be late. I've got an important meeting this afternoon,' said Bruce.
`He means an important round of golf,' Chloe told Greg as the door swung shut behind them.
The car was parked on double yellows outside the shop. Greg unlocked the doors.
`How's Miranda?'
`Missing you terribly. Pining for you. Actually, that's a joke,' said Chloe, arranging the seatbelt around her stomach. `She's fine and not missing you at all.'
`That was a lousy trick the two of you played.'
`Oh, it took more than two of us.'
Greg gave her the kind of long-suffering look he generally reserved for irritating office juniors who forgot how many