Lorcan frowned at the white lace extravaganza. ‘Very nice.’
His reply had been tempered and Jess understood why. The dress was fussy and twee and Shirley Temple. Just the kind of dress which would appeal to an elderly lady, but murder to wash and iron.
‘I didn’t want it,’ piped up Harriet. ‘I wanted the blue dress.’
‘But, sweetheart, the shop didn’t have a blue one in your size,’ her grandmother said, ‘and this is almost the same.’
The little girl stamped her foot. ‘Don’t care. I don’t like this one.’ Squeezing up her face, she forced out a couple of tears. ‘I don’t like white.’
Replace ‘angel’ with ‘Hell’s angel’, Jess thought. Though what else could you expect when you considered her genes?
‘Don’t cry, sweetheart,’ Peg appealed, looking as if she might cry herself.
‘I hate white! White is stinky!’
‘So we’ll make it blue,’ Jess said.
As if clicked off by a switch, the temper tantrum stopped.
‘How?’ demanded Harriet.
Standing up, she held out her hand. ‘If you come with me to your daddy’s car where I left my bag, I’ll show you.’
‘You need the key,’ Lorcan said, lifting a hip and reaching into his pocket. ‘Here you are.’
When they returned a few minutes later, Harriet was wearing a pair of swimming goggles. They were blue-tinted goggles.
‘My dress is blue now,’ she declared, smiling down at the skirt. ‘And you’re blue, Daddy. And Grandma. And Grandpa. And—’
As the little girl lifted a cushion, turned pages in a book, peered out of the window and happily pronounced everything blue, her grandmother served tea and home-made sponge cake.
‘Where do you live, Jess?’ Peg enquired pleasantly.
‘In Wimbledon.’
‘You live alone?’
‘Yes, in a small flat. Though my family are nearby so someone’s always calling round.’
‘Have you ever been married?’ the old lady asked.
‘No. I was almost engaged once, but I’ve travelled a lot over the past few years and separations aren’t conducive to long-term relationships,’ she said ruefully.
‘How about a boyfriend now?’
She shook her head.
‘So you’re fancy-free, just like my son is fancy-free,’ Peg said, her smile swinging between the two of them. ‘Isn’t that nice?’
At the other end of the sofa, Lorcan’s grim-faced silence accompanied by a swift gulp of his tea indicated that he was becoming impatient. Jess grinned. As he had riled her and enjoyed himself, so she recognised a chance to have some fun at his expense.
‘It was wonderful to meet up after all this time,’ she declared. ‘Wasn’t it, Lorcan?’
A line cut between his brows. ‘Yes,’ he replied guardedly.
‘He’s such a friendly, easygoing kind of a guy.’ Putting down her teacup, she stretched out a hand and squeezed his knee. ‘A poppet.’
For a moment, he seemed about to choke.
‘There’s always been a rapport between us,’ Jess carried on blithely, and shot him a look, pleased by the fire she saw in his eyes. ‘A strong one.’
‘So you’ll be meeting again?’ Peg enquired.
‘That’s up to your son,’ she murmured, lowering her gaze and acting coy.
Very deliberately—and as if she might be the carrier of the Black Death or some other lethal and highly contagious disease—Lorcan took hold of her wrist and lifted her hand from his knee. He stood up.
‘Time I took Jess home,’ he declared.
‘Already?’ his mother protested.
‘I’m afraid so,’ she said, taking her cue and rising too. Enough was enough. It would be foolish to overdo things and have him complaining to Sir Peter about her behaviour. ‘Thanks for the tea, but I must go.’
Harriet came to stand in front of her. ‘Do you want these?’ she asked, her eyes bright and anxious behind the goggles.
‘No, you can keep them.’
‘Forever?’
‘For ever and ever,’ Jess assured her.
The child gave her a solemn look. ‘Thank you.’
Goodbyes were exchanged, Peg expressed the hope that Jess would come again soon, and they took their leave.
‘Boy, you’re really something,’ Lorcan muttered as he unlocked the car.
Jess made innocent eyes at him across the roof. ‘I was only adding a little colour.’
‘By calling me poppet?’
‘You’d have preferred dearest heart?’
‘I’d have preferred it if you’d kept your lip buttoned. OK, my mother was grilling you and I apologise for that, but there was no need to give her the wrong idea.’
‘The moment she saw me she had the wrong idea. I did warn you.’
‘Maybe,’ he conceded, ‘but now she’ll be asking about you for months, because she liked you!’
‘I’m a likeable person.’
‘Then how come you manage to annoy the hell out of me?’ Lorcan enquired.
‘It’s a gift,’ she replied airily, and climbed into the car. ‘Please don’t bother to drive me home,’ Jess said as he swung the coupé out onto the road. ‘I can easily take the Underground, so if you’d just run me to the nearest station. It’ll be much quicker than driving back through the city and I only have a short walk at the other end.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Certain.’
‘Thanks, I’ll do that,’ he said. ‘It means I can relieve my folks of Harriet and get her home and in bed at a reasonable time.’
‘Home is where?’
‘West Sussex, and the journey takes around an hour and a half depending on the traffic.’
‘You obviously don’t have a girlfriend,’ she remarked as they turned back onto the main road.
‘No. Much to my mother’s dismay. But as you travel, so I’ve moved around in the two years since my wife died, and what with that and caring for Harriet I haven’t had the opportunity to embark on a relationship.’
A tightness had entered his voice and when she looked at his profile she saw the nerve pulsing in his temple.
‘Nor the inclination?’ she asked.
‘I have my share of raging hormones,’ Lorcan said drily, ‘so I guess I’d be open to a torrid affair with no strings attached. But as far as anything serious goes—no. I’m not interested in commitment. Thanks for sidetracking Harriet about the dress,’ he went on. ‘She can be a little witch at times. And thank you for the goggles. How much did they cost?’
‘I don’t remember, but put them towards the dry-cleaning of your suit.’
He gave a cryptic smile. ‘Will do. I’m also grateful for your cooperation in the charade,’ he said as they reached the Underground station. ‘Correction, fifty per cent grateful.’