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‘There’s another solution,’ he said. ‘You could share a pudding with me.’
She laughed. ‘No chance. I’m not polite enough to do that. I’d end up having a spoon duel with you. And I’d win—because I’d play dirty and smack your knuckles with my spoon.’
‘Oh, would you, now?’ He laughed back. ‘But, for the record, I like you and your curves just the way you are. And I really like the fact that you enjoy food and you’re not going to nibble one olive and claim you don’t have room to eat anything else that evening.’
‘No, that’s not me.’ She shrugged. ‘But I should probably tell you I don’t cook.’
‘Can’t or don’t?’ he asked.
‘A bit of both,’ Madison said lightly.
When the waitress came to take their order, Madison ordered the crème brûlée. ‘Oh, and the salad niçoise to start with, please,’ she added with a smile.
Again, she noticed Theo hiding a grin. ‘What?’ she asked when the waitress had left.
‘Not only do you read a menu backwards, you order backwards.’
‘And your point is?’
‘I’m not laughing at you, Maddie,’ he said softly. ‘I’m smiling because it’s so refreshing to be with a woman who knows what she wants and is direct about it.’
If only he knew, she thought. Because there was something else she wanted. Something she couldn’t be direct about, because she couldn’t have it.
Dinner was fabulous, and the crème brûlée with rhubarb and ginger compote was just perfect. The film, too, lived up to expectations.
Theo insisted on walking her home from the tube station.
‘You really don’t have to. I’m streetwise enough not to get into trouble,’ Madison protested.
‘I don’t care. Where I grew up, men look after women.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Theo. Really. You don’t have to worry.’
‘Tough. You can argue as much as you like—I’m walking you home.’
In the end, it was easier to agree with him.
‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ she asked as they stood outside her front door.
‘I thought you said you didn’t cook?’
‘I’m not making you Greek coffee.’ She smiled. ‘And even I can manage a cafetière.’
‘Then I accept. Efkharisto.’ He gave her a slight formal bow.
The first thing that struck Theo about the flat was the absence of pink. Madison was capable and professional at work, yet very feminine at the same time; she wore pink a lot, and he’d even overheard her having conversations about sparkly pink nail polish in the staff kitchen. But there was nothing girly about the décor. It was plain, neutral, relaxing. There was a string of feathery butterflies draped round the mirror above the mantelpiece, but other than that there were none of the fluffy things he’d expected. The kitchen was pure white and chrome—absolutely spotless—and Madison switched on the kettle before taking two mugs and a cafetière from the cupboard.
‘Come and sit down,’ she said, ushering him into the living room.
Theo’s attention was snagged by the photographs on the mantelpiece. There was a picture of Madison, her hair loose and blown about by the wind, standing in a garden; next to her was a taller woman with similar colouring who looked enough like her to be her sister. ‘That’s Katrina, I assume?’
‘Yes. In my parents’ back garden. These are my parents…’ She gestured to a photograph of an older couple. ‘And these are Katrina’s.’
‘Your fathers look very alike,’ he commented.
‘They’re brothers. My dad’s two years older than Uncle Danny—Katrina’s dad.’
In all the photographs, the groups of people had their arms round each other or were sharing a smile. They were clearly a very close family; for a moment, Theo felt wistful, missing his own family. The noise and chatter of his sisters, his brother’s terrible jokes, his father’s deep laugh and his stepmother’s gentle nurturing.
They’d adore Madison.
He pushed the thought away. It wasn’t going to happen. When he’d found out the truth about his past, the way his mother had died, he’d made a vow that he’d never, ever put a woman through the risks of childbirth. And Madison wanted children. Despite the fact that he’d never felt a pull so strong towards someone, he couldn’t act on it. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Madison, despite her independence and bubbly exterior, was vulnerable. She’d already had a miserable marriage to someone who hadn’t wanted what she wanted out of life; how could he ask her to repeat that? And she wasn’t looking for a short-term affair, which was all he could offer her.
