Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [48]
`You're Hungry and Homeless,' said Florence.
`Well, kind of. But you can call me Danny,' he replied with a grin.
He might not be who she'd thought he was, but Florence had already made up her mind. She liked him.
`So you aren't Miranda's new boyfriend,' she announced, holding his glass of wine out to him. `Pity. Never mind, you can still have a drink.'
When Miranda had heard the shrill ring of the doorbell earlier, her immediate instinct had been to leap out of the bath and race downstairs. Well, maybe throw on a few clothes first.
But Greg was early, she hadn't even washed her hair yet and she'd been looking forward to this bath all day. Besides, Florence was there to entertain him.
Maybe I shouldn't rush down, Miranda thought, sinking lazily back into the steaming, scented water. Let them have some time alone together; that way, they can get to know each other in peace.
`Here she is,' Florence announced twenty minutes later. `Oh my word, and she's actually wearing a dress! Darling, you look a treat.'
Having been encouraged by the explosions of laughter filtering up the stairs - Florence and Greg were clearly getting on like a house on fire - Miranda had taken her time getting ready. Now, completely thrown by the sight of the wrong two people getting along like a house on fire - well, right woman, wrong man - she ground to a halt in the doorway.
Was Jeremy Beadle responsible for this?Chapter 20
`Hello.' Miranda looked at Danny Delancey, then at her watch, then at Florence. `Where's Greg?'
`Sshh.' Florence raised her eyebrows in alarm. `Careless talk costs lives. Forget you heard that,' she instructed Danny. `Miranda's boyfriend is officially The Man With No Name. Honestly, darling,' she returned her attention to Miranda, `if you're going to be a secret agent, you'll have to do better than that.'
Miranda took in at a glance the almost empty bottle of wine on the table, the relaxed way Danny Delancey's arm was draped across the back of the sofa, the barely suppressed grins on both their faces. Almost as if they were in league with each other.
`Where is he?'
Florence looked innocent.
`Who?'
`Greg.'
`Sshh!'
`It'll never work.' Danny was shaking his head. `You'll have to call him something else. How about Percy?' They were definitely making fun of her. Miranda sighed. And it was ten past eight, so where was Greg?
`We mustn't tease. Poor darling, she's only just met the boy,' said Florence. `It's a traumatic business, this falling in love. No sign of him yet.' Airily she waved Miranda over to the sofa. `But don't worry, I'm sure he'll be here soon.'
Being ganged up on was bad enough. When it was coupled with the first niggling oh-God-don't-say-I'm-about-to-bestood-up ripples of anxiety, the effect was horrible.
`What are you doing here anyway?' Miranda knew she sounded irritated but she didn't care. Greg had never been late before. He wouldn't stand her up, surely?
Daniel Delancey patted the space next to him on the sofa.
`I was passing; just dropped by on the off-chance. We need to fix up a couple of dates for filming. This week, if you could manage it.'
Pointedly, Miranda perched on the arm of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.
`I'm busy this week. I can't take any time off work.'
`Okay, but we could interview you here. Thursday evening would be good for us.' He consulted his battered Filofax, then looked up. `Actually, any chance of seeing your room now?'
Not a chance in the world, Miranda thought with a shudder. Her room was currently awash with all the clothes she had tried on, discarded and flung to the floor.
`No. And I'm busy on Thursday evening too,' she added for good measure. Honestly, talk about impertinent. Did she look like someone with no social life at all?
`Seeing your boyfriend, you mean?' Danny glanced at his watch, his eyebrows registering dismay. `Oh dear, twenty past.'
Miranda gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt.
`Danny, your glass