Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [61]
Bruce looked resigned; somehow he had known she wouldn't.
`Okay, just so long as you do enough to make my mother realise he's a waste of space.'
`If he is,' Chloe reminded him. `He may not be.'
`That's your trouble, you're too trusting.' What Bruce actually meant was gullible. Jesus, was it any wonder her husband had run off?
`You shouldn't judge people until you've met them,' Chloe persisted. `You might like Orlando.'
`Hmm.'
Maybe it was the pregnancy, thought Bruce, doing bizarre things to her brain.
`Well, we'll find out on Friday,' she went on brightly. `That's when I'm moving in.'
Bruce perked up. This could be interesting.
`I'll be able to see how he behaves towards you.'
`Oh, that would have been brilliant. But I'll still be upstairs, ploughing through all my unpacking. Unless…' Chloe glanced hopefully across at him, `you could let me have the afternoon off?'
`You look lovely.' Miranda was full of admiration. `Nice and sleazy.'
`But subtle sleaze,' said Danny, standing back from
Miranda's bedroom minor and letting her blast away with the hairspray.
`There, done.'
She bounced on to the bed, admiring her own handiwork.
They had settled on slicked-back hair and fake tan for that Latin-lover look, teamed with a navy blazer over a white polo shirt and precision-ironed jeans. The overall effect, together with the jewellery and aftershave, was just right.
`Smile at me,' Miranda ordered.
Danny smiled, gigolo-style, oozing charm and sincerity and playful flirtation.
Somewhere in the depths of her ribcage, something went zinnggg. She shook her head, marvelling at the effect. `Damn, you're good.'
`I know. Scary, isn't it?' Reaching for her hand, he pressed a warm, lingering kiss on the tips of her fingers.
`Oh dear,' Miranda murmured. `You could live to regret that.'
`Why? Oh God-!'
Danny pulled a face as the terrible taste belatedly reached his tongue.
`What did I just plaster all over your head?' Gleefully Miranda waved her hands at him, Al Jolson-style. `Hair gel.'
Danny watched her run a comb through her own gel-free hair. It was almost eight o'clock - Bruce and Verity would be here at any minute.
`Not seeing the boyfriend this evening?'
The boyfriend. Honestly, how derogatory was that? `He's away.' Miranda vigorously rubbed a bit of blusher
into her cheeks, hoping she sounded like a girl who could take separations in her stride. Since Greg had left for Birmingham on Wednesday she had missed him dreadfully, had practically been reduced to counting the minutes, but tonight was the last night. By lunchtime tomorrow he would be back, hooray!
`He's at an important sales conference,' she explained airily over her shoulder. `In Birmingham.'
Danny sounded amused.
`You hope.'
`What are you talking about? Of course he's at a sales conference.' Miranda swung round and glared at him. `How do you know? He could have another girlfriend tucked away somewhere.' Danny shrugged. `I'm not saying he has. It's possible, that's all.'
`Why are you always doing this?' she demanded. `Does it give you some kind of thrill?'
He feigned innocence.
`Not at all. I was just thinking of a piece I did in one of the Sundays last year, about bigamists. It just amazed me the way the wives had absolutely no idea what was going on.' Miranda almost felt sorry for him. It couldn't be much fun having a nasty suspicious mind.
`Look, just because you're a journalist you don't always have to think the worst of people,' she told him patiently. `Not everyone's a liar and a cheat, you know. I'm not, Florence isn't… and Greg isn't, either. He's honest and trustworthy and when he tells me he has to go to a sales conference in Birmingham, I believe him. So just shut up about it, okay?'
`Okay. I'm sorry.' Danny flashed her an apologetic -
well, fairly apologetic - smile. `I must not cast aspersions on Miranda's perfect boyfriend, I must not cast aspersions on Miranda's-'
`Stop it!' Miranda howled, blushing and hurling the comb at him.
`Must be true love.' He eyed her pink cheeks with enjoyment. `Bet you