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‘You must miss it,’ he observed, wondering how much she missed him. Marco.
Shelley hesitated and he must have seen it, because he said, ‘Don’t worry—I won’t storm out of here feeling wounded on behalf of myself and everyone else in Milmouth if you tell me that yes, you miss it madly!’
‘But I don’t! I miss it much less than I imagined I would,’ she told him, watching the strong hands as they cupped his mug of coffee. She wondered—hoped—that he wouldn’t ask her about Marco. Not now. For wouldn’t it spoil this strange feeling of contentment which had stolen over her? And Drew felt it, too—she could tell that from the way he had relaxed back into the chair, his face thoughtful as he drank his coffee.
He saw her watching. ‘Quite like old times,’ he observed.
She glanced down at the sleeping baby on her lap. ‘Well, not quite!’
‘No.’ His smile was rueful. ‘I guess not.’
It certainly had some of the ease of old times, but with an edge of uncertainty which added an unmistakable tension to the atmosphere. Shelley kissed the baby’s head, thinking what a bizarre little trio they would make to someone who didn’t know the true situation. Why, to an outside observer, they could almost be a family unit. If only she had gone with the flow of things, this could be them—only Ellie could be their baby. It was almost too poignant to bear.
‘Do you want to go?’ she asked him suddenly. ‘It’s late. Jennie said they might not get back until one.’
‘No.’ He shook his head and frowned. ‘You go. I’ll stay.’
‘But Jennie will be expecting me, won’t she?’
‘She’ll be expecting a responsible, caring adult and I think we both fit that category, don’t you?’
‘Why, thank you, Drew!’ she murmured.
‘Anyway, I’m staying,’ he put in obstinately. ‘I’m her uncle and I’m perfectly capable of looking after her. What you do is up to you.’ He narrowed his eyes and shot her a look of deepest blue. ‘But you look dead beat, Shelley. Why don’t you go to…?’ A pulse flickered at his temple as he seemed to have trouble getting the word out without making it sound like an invitation. As he’d done in the restaurant. ‘Bed…’ he finished, wondering why certain words could sound so explicit. He stared at Shelley. It depended on who you said them to, of course.
‘Maybe I will,’ she said, hoping that if he noticed the pinkness of her cheeks he would put it down to the central heating. Except that they’d turned it right down…
‘Of course—’ his voice deepened ‘—you could always stay here and keep me company?’
As if! She remembered the sleepiness in his voice when he’d answered the phone, the voice in the background. She knew she had no right at all to ask and that asking might make her appear vulnerable, but her need to know overrode everything right then, including her judgement.
‘Won’t anyone be expecting you back home?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
There seemed little point in beating around the bush. ‘Because I heard someone speaking to you when I telephoned.’
‘So you did.’ He gave her a shrewd stare. ‘And you want to know who it was, is that it? Whether somebody is keeping my bed warm for me, back home?’
‘That wasn’t what I asked you, Drew.’
‘Liar!’ The glitter in his eyes intensified. ‘Not in so many words, maybe—but that was the point behind your question. You wanted to know if I was with a woman.’ His voice was husky. ‘And the answer is yes, I was.’
She felt the blood drain from her face and wondered if it showed. She stood up carefully and carried the baby over to him, but at least it distracted her from the thump of pain she felt at the thought of somebody—anybody—in his bed. Bar her.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Do you?’
‘Perfectly.’ She swallowed. ‘And it’s time I was going.’
His blue eyes were fixed unwaveringly on her face, wishing that she’d come straight out and ask him. Except that he still hadn’t asked her about the Italian. Had he? ‘Her name is Amanda and she’s a friend.’
‘A friend?’
‘Sure. I have lots of friends of the opposite sex—don’t you? Want to meet her?’ he questioned. ‘You could wait until Jennie gets back and I’ll take you home with me.’
‘I think I’ll pass.’
‘Another time, maybe?’
‘We’ll see.’ Because she wasn’t sure what part he was suggesting she play in his life—as another friend of the opposite sex, perhaps? And it wasn’t the kind of question you could come straight out and ask a man. Even a man you’d once been engaged to—no, especially a man you’d once been engaged to.
