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She waved a hand through the air dismissively. ‘My mum was a supermodel, my dad a rock star. Despite the fact he hasn’t been on tour since I was a young girl, in Britain he’s still idolised, and Mum loves to “stay current”, as she says. She has all the glossy mags do interviews with them every year; some come to the house for in-depth features. You know the kind of thing—“what life’s like in the Jones family”.’ She rolled her eyes, wondering if the few sips of champagne she’d had in the helicopter had loosened her tongue so much, even when she suspected it was far more likely to be the effect of the man sitting opposite.
‘Let me just say this...’ She paused as the waiter appeared with their drinks, and so Ares could advise the waiter that they’d eat what the chef recommended.
‘Do you have any allergies?’ he asked Bea.
She shook her head.
Once they were alone again he reached across the table, putting his hand on hers. ‘Go on.’
That simple gesture, as well as his prompting her to continue, warmed something that had been frozen in her chest for a very long time.
‘Oh, just that what life looks like in the pages of those magazines is often a far cry from the truth.’ A sense of disloyalty had her dropping her gaze. ‘Or perhaps that’s just being mean-spirited. I shouldn’t have said it.’
‘Is it true?’
Sparkling hazel eyes lifted to his. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded silently.
‘Then you can say it.’
Nonetheless, perhaps sensing her reluctance to share further personal details, he moved the conversation to safer ground, asking about her studies instead, and her time as a senior partner, her career ambitions, and then her friendship with Amy and Clare, so, before Bea knew it, the dessert plates were being cleared and her stomach was full of the most delicious food she’d ever eaten.
‘Oh, my goodness.’ She stared at her watch with a look of panic. ‘That wasn’t a “quick meal”! We’ve been hours!’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, leaning back in his chair, completely confident and content. ‘And while you were in the restroom earlier I checked in with Xanthia. Danica is still sleeping soundly. See? You are a magician.’
Relief and pride spread through Bea. ‘I’m so glad. I hated seeing her as she was last night.’
‘She has been like that most nights since she came to live with me.’
Bea tilted her head to the side a little. ‘Babies are very intuitive,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘It’s often believed that because they look helpless they are, when really they’re capable of understanding so much more than we give them credit for.’
He waited for her to elaborate.
She chose her words with care. ‘It sounds like Danica’s life has already known no shortage of trauma and grief. The loss of her mother, her father’s grief, and now his absence... It doesn’t really surprise me that she’s been struggling to settle.’
‘So why were you able to calm her last night?’
Bea had her own theories on that, but she wasn’t about to spout them to Ares. He hardly needed to know that Bea wondered if her own latent childhood traumas and grief had somehow spoken to Danica on some level, bonding them in a unique, unusual way, reassuring the little girl that she was in the company of someone who understood her pain.
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m glad it worked.’
His laugh was unexpected. It spread like warm butter over her body. ‘As am I.’
He ran his finger around the rim of his glass, his eyes probing hers in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
‘I find it impossible to believe you’ve never dated before.’
The observation was completely unexpected and it roused her out of the heavenly state of relaxation she’d allowed herself to fall into. Sitting up straighter, she looked around.
‘You must have been asked out?’
Bea bristled. ‘I can’t see how that matters.’
His smile was lightly mocking. ‘Can’t you?’
She looked down at her own drink, then his, mesmerised by the way his finger was moving.
She pursed her lips, searching for words. ‘I’m twenty-nine. Of course I’ve been asked out.’
