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Alex chuckled. Nicky was beginning to feel much better. His temperature was normal and, although he still looked somewhat battle-scarred and had patches of calamine lotion all over him, he also looked a lot better.
‘No, Nicky, sorry,’ she said affectionately and paused. ‘But would you like to have a look at the decorations and so on?’
He would, he told her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE transformation of the house for the dinner dance was breathtaking—considering that the place was rather breathtakingly beautiful even in normal mode.
Once again the vast, stone-flagged terrace was the main venue, but this time, instead of two long tables, many smaller round tables were grouped around an imported wooden dance floor.
There were flowers everywhere, on the tables and in standard wrought-iron vases. A canopy of magenta ribbons was looped above the dance floor and electric candles in tall sconces shed soft light.
A cascade of tiny flickering lights pricked the night as they outlined the jetty.
The band, more accurately a string quartet, its four members dressed in dinner suits with magenta velvet bow ties, was tuning up softly.
Alex gave Nicky a tour, then they sat on the staircase for a while, where they could look through the hall to the terrace.
‘It looks like an enchanted castle,’ Nicky said. ‘Will my dad be here tonight?’
‘Indeed he will, but I’m not sure what time he’s arriving.’
She turned at a sound above her. It was Peta and she told them she was in residence with Brad and ready to take over.
‘Seen enough, Nicky?’ Alex asked. ‘I think Peta’s got a DVD for you and Brad to watch.’
‘Oh, boy!’ Nicky jumped up. ‘Goodnight, Alex.’ He gave her a quick hug and turned to go, then turned back. ‘Will you say goodnight to my dad for me?’
‘Of course,’ Alex said through a sudden lump in her throat.
She stayed where she was as Nicky pattered out of sight and earshot, then she jumped as Max Goodwin walked from the shadows beside the staircase into the pool of light at the bottom of it.
‘You!’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t know you were there.’
He inclined his head. ‘No, I gathered that.’
‘But—’ Alex stopped and took an unexpected breath, because this was a Max Goodwin she’d never seen, and not only because he was impeccably dressed in a dinner suit and snowy shirt front, not because he wore his evening clothes to perfection, not even because she’d never seen him look irritated or impatient—she certainly had.
But what Stan had said flashed through her mind—he could cut you down to size with a few well-chosen words, sometimes with just a look. That summed up this Max Goodwin.
There was a harshness in his eyes and the lines of his face, a forbidding aura about him that also summed up what Jake Frost had said—this would not be a good time to oppose Mr Goodwin.
And it caused Alex to tremble inwardly and feel like creeping away. But surely …
‘Didn’t you hear?’ she asked. ‘He called you Dad.’
‘I heard. Have you been coaching him, Alex?’
‘No. Oh, no! I think Brad, Mrs Mills’ grandson, may have helped, though. He doesn’t get to see a lot of his father either, but he talks about him a lot. I have to say, in the father stakes, Brad’s dad is a hard act to follow since he gets to drive around in tanks and has a real gun.’
She stopped her light-hearted attempt to defuse the situation and the hasty smile she’d pinned on faded from her lips.
But it seemed it might have worked.
He stirred and the harshness relaxed a little. ‘I’ll go and say goodnight to him now.’
Alex heaved a sigh of relief and she stood up to allow him to pass, only to find she simply couldn’t help herself as he drew abreast of her.
