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‘I haven’t had much chance to do anything with it as yet,’ she continued, edging towards him. ‘I’ve hung a couple of my sketches.’
‘I recognise them.’ They had come off his wall, leaving oblong spaces which got on his nerves more than he might have expected. He had obviously become accustomed to seeing them there—which only proved yet again how dangerous habit could be.
He strode through to the bedroom, peering in, then the bathroom, and finally the kitchen—which was small, but big enough to fit a tiny square table with four chairs pressed into it. There were no signs of male occupation, but then whatever-his-name-was probably hadn’t had time to make his presence felt as yet. If, indeed, he intended to. Heather might fancy him as commitment-shy, but she was in for a brutal shock if she imagined that he was so different from half the eligible men roaming the streets of London, willing to sleep with any halfway attractive woman who didn’t have the ability to say no. Or, in the case of Heather, the ability to spot a cad from a mile off.
He finally concluded his inspection and returned to where Heather was standing by the two-seater sofa. Just as he had thought, her uniform of shapeless tracksuits had been discarded and she was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a small top which couldn’t help but draw his eye to her bounteous breasts.
Thank God he was being magnanimous enough to consider helping her, telling her—as the friend he still was, whatever had happened between them—of the dangers of the opposite sex. He felt a zing of pure satisfaction—and why not when he was being as unselfish as was humanly possible?
‘Not bad,’ Theo conceded, tearing his eyes away from her and focusing instead on the kitchen to the left of her. ‘Small, but not the usual dump most single people get shovelled into.’
‘I wouldn’t stay in a dump,’ Heather protested. She thought of the place she had been renting before she had moved in with Theo and flushed. That hadn’t been the height of elegance, that was for sure, but time spent in one of the plushest of penthouse apartments had considerably elevated her expectations of living accommodation. ‘Well, not now, anyway,’ she amended truthfully. ‘Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? I don’t have any of the fresh stuff, I’m afraid.’
‘Have you got anything stronger? Some whisky would be good.’
‘You know I don’t drink whisky, Theo. Why would I stock it?’ He wasn’t throwing himself in her arms, declaring himself a fool for not having realised earlier how much he needed her, and she began to have a few healthy doubts about the reason for his presence in her flat. These, though, she decided to keep to herself. Theo was not a man who could be pushed into saying anything he didn’t want to say. He obviously had something to say—or else why would he be standing in her flat right now?—but he would say whatever it was in good time. Anyway, once she’d removed the burgeoning little worries beginning to niggle, the anticipation of taking up their relationship once more would be worth the wait.
‘What about some wine?’
‘I think I could do wine. I had a glass yesterday, and the rest is in the fridge.’
She began walking towards the kitchen, leaving Theo to wonder who she had been sharing the wine with. Heather was not the sort of woman who enjoyed drinking by herself. Which meant that she would have been drinking with someone, and the only person who sprang to his suspicious mind was the opportunist date of a few evenings before. He felt his mouth tighten in an instant, glowering hostility, but soothed his distaste by quickly reminding himself of his generous mission tonight.
‘Have you eaten?’ Heather asked, stretching up to fetch down a couple of wine glasses and looking at him over her shoulder.
‘There’s no need to put yourself out on my behalf,’ Theo said, ‘but, no, I haven’t. In fact, I’ve come straight from work.’
‘I haven’t eaten either.’ She smiled, guiltily aware that she shouldn’t really be enjoying his company, having him in her flat. Beth would have a thousand fits if she knew. ‘Actually, I’ve spent the day getting my portfolio together in preparation for my new job. They had a look at the interview but I’m going to take it in anyway when I start—just so that my immediate boss knows what I’m capable of. Beth said that’s the only thing to do—make them know from the start that I have the potential to get into the area I want. People don’t know what you’re capable of unless you blow your own trumpet.’ She handed him a glass of wine, noticing how he seemed to dwarf the small kitchen even though he had sat down and pushed the chair back as far as he could, so that he could stretch out his long legs.
This gave Theo the leeway he needed to get across his point, but ramming it home wasn’t going to do. Heather was obviously very excited about her brand-new life, and slamming into her about its pitfalls would simply get her back up. He decided to let the evening unwind and drop sufficient casual hints that would build up into an insurmountable wall of unavoidable fact. He sipped the wine, watching her as she smiled at him, cheeks attractively pink.
‘This Beth character has too much influence over you,’ he contented himself by pointing out. ‘If you are going to be cooking something for yourself, then I might share it with you. I’m in no rush this evening.’
Heather was dying to ask what had happened to Michelle. Surely if they were an item she would be around on any evening Theo had free?
‘Just some pasta actually.’
‘Tell me about this job.’
‘Do you want some pasta?’ It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to cook him something else instead, but good sense held her back from saying it. Yes, he had come to see her, and she was quietly stunned and overjoyed, but it wasn’t quite enough to make her forget what a push-over she had been in the past, putting herself out to do whatever he wanted, even if it was a meal at some ungodly hour of the evening after he had worked his usual mammoth hours and still had more to do.
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t let me push you into having it,’ Heather said, with an uncustomary surge of rebellion. ‘The sauce is just from a tin, and I know you don’t like anything from tins.’
Theo frowned. ‘Simply because home cooking is a damn sight healthier, not to mention tastier, than anything you can get from a can. Canned foods are loaded with preservatives.’
‘And, of course, you’ve always had the luxury of never having to take the quick and easy way out…’ Before she had come along Theo had had the chef from his favourite restaurant prepare food for him which he could freeze and pull out for instant healthy home-cooked food whenever it happened to suit him.
‘I didn’t come here to have a pointless argument with you over the advantages and disadvantages of processed food,’ Theo grated. ‘You were going to tell me about your job…?’ He stood up to fetch himself another glass of wine and brushed past her, sending little electric currents whizzing through her body.
Distracted by that fleeting physical contact, Heather forgot the question that had risen to her lips—which had concerned his reasons for coming to see her, now that he mentioned it—and found herself chatting to him about the whole nerve-racking interview through to its happy conclusion.
As she chatted she chopped tomatoes, making a small concession to his distaste of anything pre-prepared, which she added to the concoction from the tin. She also shredded and tossed in a few basil leaves from the little plant she had growing on the counter, and crushed some fresh garlic to give it a bit of extra bite.
The end result looked mouthwateringly home-made, and she ladled good amounts for both of them onto some steaming tagliatelle.
‘Very healthy,’ Theo announced, eyeing her appraisingly. ‘Is this a new diet to go with your new life? You’ve lost weight.’
Heather was proud of the achievement. There was no way she was going to let on that sheer unhappiness had curbed her healthy appetite, and that in the process something weird but wonderful had happened. She had lost some of her cravings for sweet things. Instead, she nodded, and looked at him over the rim of her glass as she swallowed a mouthful of wine.
‘I didn’t think you’d noticed,’ she said, pleased that he had. In those few glorious, heady weeks when they had been together as a couple he had commented often on how much he adored her body, its fullness. ‘But I’ll never be a stick insect,’ she continued. ‘I mean, aside from my waist and stomach, everything’s pretty much the same as it was before.’
‘I’d noticed that as well. Your breasts are still as luscious as ever.’
Heather blushed and told herself not to get her hopes up, not to imagine that the passing compliment was an indication of things to come. But hope sprang inside her like an unchecked river breaking its banks, and it was all she could do not to tremble.
‘You don’t have to pay me compliments because I’ve cooked you a meal, Theo. Anyway, you have a girlfriend, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be overjoyed to know that you’re sitting in my kitchen making flattering noises about my figure.’
