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‘Probably more than I should,’ he admitted. ‘Morning and afternoon teas were my mother’s speciality—the small rituals of a more gracious past. And since I don’t drink alcohol I’ve become a connoisseur of the social substitute.’
He wouldn’t find much to appreciate in her supermarket own-brand tea, thought Harriet wryly as she blurted out, ‘Is that because of your father?’
He appeared unruffled by the personal question. ‘Partly, I suppose…I’m afraid I might have a genetic predisposition to alcoholism. But mostly it’s because I like to keep a clear head.’
‘While all around you are losing theirs,’ murmured Harriet. Didn’t he realise how pointless it was, that there were some things that would always be beyond human control?
‘Something like that. White or black?’
‘White. But I forgot to buy any milk.’
He reached for the fridge door. ‘I think I saw a carton left.’ He took it out and frowned critically at the label. ‘Non-fat? Surely you’re not foolish enough to think you need to diet?’
‘He transferred his frown to her too slender figure and she could see that he was wondering whether she was suffering from an eating disorder.
‘Of course not. I keep that for Frank—’ Her heart began to pound and she clapped a hand over her stupid, runaway mouth.
‘Frank?’ He looked sharply at her, letting the fridge door drift shut. ‘Who’s Frank?’
She shook her head, putting her other hand over her mouth, desperately pressing the words back down her constricted throat, her eyes wide and blank with shock. A lock of white hair fell forward over one dark eyebrow, catching in her stiffly mascaraed lashes and making her blink furiously.
His tone gentled. ‘Harriet, who is Frank? A neighbour? Family?’ When she shook her head wordlessly again, he stepped towards her. ‘Then who? Obviously someone you know well.’ His eyes narrowed on her white face and his voice hardened at her unconscious look of pleading, his anger edged with disbelief. ‘Not your fiancé?’
‘My fiancé?’ Bewilderment mingled with her shock, the trembling words so muffled by her fingers that they were barely intelligible.
‘Ex-fiancé, then. Has he come back?’ She shook her head dumbly and backed up against the cabinets as he took another step closer. ‘But you’re still hoping he might, is that it? Why else would you still keep his preferred brand of milk in your fridge months after he walked out on you? Is that the reason behind your sudden desire to be a different woman—a last-ditch attempt to entice Frank back by distorting yourself into the kind of woman you think he finds exciting?’
A small sob of bitter laughter escaped her fingers and he wrenched them away, stripping her vulnerable mouth bare.
‘Then answer me. Tell me why!’
‘How typical of a male to think that there could only be one reason for a woman to want to change herself— to impress a man!’ she choked. ‘Let me go; you know nothing—nothing!’ She tried to pull her wrists out of his hands but he held them grimly out to her sides.
‘I know that he mauled you badly—’
She gasped. ‘Keith was never violent!” That had been part of the problem…his lack of passion. When their relationship had faltered under the continuing burden of her father’s illness and it had seemed that Harriet would be caring for him well into the future, Keith hadn’t even tried to fight for their love. He had simply given up.
‘I meant emotionally—’ He stopped and said with clipped intensity, ‘Who in the hell is Keith?’
‘My f—ex-fiancé.’
‘Then who is Frank?’
‘H-how did you know about my engagement?’
‘The fact that you wore a diamond ring on your engagement finger was something of a clue,’ he said drily.
She wouldn’t have thought he would have noticed such an insignificant detail…particularly since the ring itself had been pretty insignificant—Keith wasn’t given to extravagant gestures and what he’d saved on the tiny diamond chip had been carefully banked towards buying a house. ‘I mean about Keith—about it breaking up?’
‘You stopped wearing the ring,’ he said, and just as she was relaxing at the thought that, naturally, he was above listening to office gossip he added cruelly, ‘And I believe you mentioned it to several people at the office on New Year’s Eve.’
Her white face flooded with colour and she went limp in his hold. ‘Oh, no! You mean at the party, when I, when I…?’
‘Was somewhat inebriated, yes. Oh, don’t worry…your ramblings were quite circumspect…no names, no intimate secrets revealed, just sad references to the man who let you down when you most needed him and how you couldn’t hurt him as much as he hurt you because he obviously didn’t care enough to be hurt.’
‘Oh, God…’ She couldn’t hide her face in her hands, so she lifted her chin and confronted him proudly. Thank goodness she had no coherent memories of that wretched party! No wonder everyone had been so discreetly kind the next day. She squared her slender shoulders. ‘Do you really think that I’d want a man like that back gain?’
‘Women scorned do strange things.’
