Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [66]
Lucky Miranda, to have a boyfriend so besotted that he had driven all the way back from Birmingham just to be with her tonight.
As she closed her eyes, Chloe wondered briefly if any man would ever feel that way again about her.
Sex, good grief, she could hardly remember what it was like. It was months, Chloe realised, since anyone had approached her nether regions without stopping first to pull on a pair of surgical gloves.
Chapter 27
Greg lay back in bed and watched Miranda, naked, nudge the bedroom door open with her bottom.
`This was definitely worth coming back for.' He grinned and took one of the cups from her. It was a warm night and two hours of stupendous sex had given him a raging thirst. `Sorry it has to be tea,' he clunked his cup against Miranda's, `but I'm all out of champagne.'
`It's probably disgusting,' she warned as he took a gulp. `You're out of milk too.'
It was disgusting, chiefly because Miranda had sprinkled in a bit of Coffee Mate as a consolation prize, but Greg didn't care. She was here and that was all that mattered.
`I meant what I said on the phone earlier.' He looked at her, his grey eyes serious. `The last few days have been awful. I can't believe how much I've missed you.'
Miranda abandoned her own cup of undrinkable tea and slid back under the duvet.
`I missed you too.'
`I've been thinking,' said Greg. `I know it's a bit soon to be saying this, but it just seems crazy, me living here and you living there… both of us paying rent, not to mention all the extra travelling…'
Her heart skipped a lorryload of beats. Was Greg really saying what she thought he was trying to say?
Oh, come on, thought Miranda, how dumb am I pretending to be? Of course he was. Even if it wasn't coming out terribly romantically, she acknowledged with a rush of love. That was the trouble with men, they just didn't watch enough slushy girlie films; they had no idea how it was meant to be done.
`What are you suggesting?' Playfully she danced her fingers across his bare chest. `We set up a tent on the bank of the Grand Union Canal? That's about halfway between your place and mine, wouldn't you say?'
Greg captured her hand and held it still. This was important; he didn't need that kind of distraction right now.
`I'm suggesting you move in with me. I want us to live together.'
Miranda gazed at him, wide-eyed. Mustn't laugh, mustn't laugh.
`You mean, because it would be time-saving and economical?'
`No,' said Greg. `Because I love you and I want to be with you. All the time.'
`What's up with you?' said Bev, materialising behind Miranda at the sinks and making her jump.
`Me? Nothing, nothing… why should anything be up?'
Bev raised an eyebrow at the scarlet jumble of Molton Browners in the sink.
`No reason, just that you've been scrubbing away at those things for the last twenty minutes. You've missed
your coffee break. More importantly,' she pointed out, `you've missed your Mars bar break. And I've never seen that happen before.'
Oh help, have to tell her soon, thought Miranda. She lifted the Molton Browners out of the sink - it was like manhandling a dead octopus - and began to pat them dry with a towel.
`I wasn't hungry,' she said with a shrug.
`Not hungry? Golly, you must be ill. Better get your appetite back before next week.'
Miranda's forehead creased.
`Next week?'
`Your birthday, dipstick! Sunday lunch at Sexy Sam's,' Bev reminded her. `It's all arranged, the table's booked for one o'clock.'
Miranda had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Greg, her birthday next week had completely slipped her mind. Meeting up for a raucous celebration lunch was an established salon tradition hugely popular with Fenn's overworked but loyal staff, especially since he was the one footing the bill.
`You'll have to bring your chap,' Bev rattled on. 'Everyone's dying to meet him.'
I have to tell her, I really have to tell her, Miranda thought. Oh, but I just don't want to be the one who dies.
She felt sick.
Took a deep breath.