Page 36 of Fool Me Twice

Leaning in closer, her voice so quiet that Matt had to bend down to listen to her, she said, “Either you get your arse out of my house within the next hour, or I might just have to tell Laura’s husband exactly where she’s been getting her exercise for the last couple of months. Or should I say who with?”

Matt’s face paled. “You wouldn’t.” He gulped, stepping aside.

“Try me.” She shoved past him and pushed the door closed behind her.

Chapter twenty

Peter checked his watch. Why did he feel so nervous? It was a birthday lunch to celebrate their son’s birthday and there was no way she’d miss it, and it wasn’t like it was a date or anything. But he could at least pretend.

“Sorry... sorry.” Evie rushed out on to the terrace, her face flushed. “Thanks,” she said, taking the glass of wine Peter offered her.

Watching her throw back her head and drain the contents, he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Don’t ask.” She placed the empty glass on the table.

“You look... lovely, by the way,” Peter said, his words feeling very inadequate. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, tell her how she’d taken his breath away the moment she’d stepped out into the sunshine, how his heart had thumped so hard in his chest that he’d thought it might burst through his ribcage at any second. He could have gone on about the way her dress sparked the blue in her grey eyes, how her skin glowed, but it was much more than that. Evie possessed the inner glow of someone who wasn’t reliant on fancy clothes, expensive perfume, or other people’s opinions; she possessed the inner confidence of someone who was comfortable in their own skin. And that was far more intoxicating than anything money could buy.

“You too. Smart, I mean.”

They both laughed nervously.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, fine,” she said, casually waving her hand. “Anyway, why haven’t we started yet... What’s that doing there?” Evie pointed at the television sitting next to the dining table.

Peter hesitated, feeling a little stupid now. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea – now, he wasn’t so sure. “It was a silly idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“I think it’s brilliant.” Evie beamed at him. “So much better than squinting at my old laptop screen.”

Peter’s stomach did a little flip; she got it. “The band were a bit late going on stage because of technical problems, so lunch has been put back a little,” he said, picking up the bottle of wine from the cooler. “Top up?”

“Please,” she said, holding up her glass. “I bet that went down well with Andre.”

“Didn’t you hear all the shouting?” Peter raised his eyes heavenward. “Shall we?” He gestured to the dining table.

“I told Jaxon I could have fried us up a couple of lamb cutlets myself. It’s such a waste of money getting grumpy-pants to come down here to do it.”

Peter roared with laughter. Only Evie would describe a word-class chef cooking something which he couldn’t even pronounce as “frying up a couple of lamb cutlets”. He waited for her to sit down before taking his own seat.

“I’m sorry about your massage,” she said, her head tilted to one side as she looked at him. “But things seemed to go a little haywire this morning, and with Reeva’s migraine... What?” she asked as the smirk spread across Peter’s face.

“I have a tiny little confession to make.” He pressed his first finger and thumb together until there was barely a slither between them. “About Reeva.”

Evie narrowed her eyes at him.

“She didn’t really have a migraine this morning,” he confessed. “We just needed to get you out of the way so that I could finish setting up the television and keep you from seeing it.”

“I knew it.” Evie hit the table lightly with her hand. “I thought that migraine came on very quickly. I’ve got a good mind to cancel your massage altogether now.”

“Um.” A young man shuffled self-consciously at the end of their table. “Excuse me.” He cleared his throat. “But Chef says that you have to eat now or the main course will be ruined.” His eyes darting from side to side, he said in a low voice, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Evie reassured him. “Tell Chef we are ready to be astounded by his culinary expertise.”

The young man nodded to his colleague, who appeared to be waiting in the wings with their starters, crispy oysters with pickled vegetable salad and citrus mayonnaise. This was followed by Ryeland lamb with young leeks, elephant garlic, St George’s mushrooms and orache.

“I don’t think I can manage dessert after that.” Evie sat back in her chair and looked across at Peter.

“And are you going to tell the maestro you won’t be delighting your tastebuds with...” Peter picked up the card and read from the menu. “‘Violet parfait with blueberries, rose and lemon thyme sorbet’?”

---