hunk you were just talking to.’
‘Oh, Stefan.’ With that odd little smile in her eyes, she murmured softly, ‘He thinks I’m trying to kill him.’
‘And are you?’ Linda asked wryly.
‘No,’ she laughed.
‘So tell.’
‘Nothing to tell,’ she denied as she led the way into the kitchen. ‘We met in an orphanage in Romania. They’d advertised for people to help renovate the old building, take out supplies. And he was absolutely useless at anything practical,’ she remembered with a grin. ‘He was eventually allowed to wield a paintbrush.’
She’d flirted with him outrageously—because he was the sort of man every woman would want to flirt with. He’d been good company, generous and kind, and yet, thinking about it now, she realised that she knew very little about him. Everyone else had shared backgrounds, family, but not Stefan. He hadn’t talked about himself at all. A man of mystery. Yet, of them all, he was the one who remained most firmly in her mind.
Still smiling, a rather reminiscent smile, she began unpacking the shopping.
‘And now he’s here. Tsk, tsk,’ Linda reproved, ‘David won’t like it.’
‘David needn’t know,’ she denied vigorously. ‘Even if there was anything to know, which there isn’t.’
‘Then why are you smiling like that?’ Linda persevered. ‘If you were really in love with David—’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she interrupted impatiently, ‘being in love doesn’t mean you don’t notice other attractive men. It doesn’t mean I want him or anything. I just—like him.’
‘David still wouldn’t like it,’ Linda persisted. ‘Especially the kiss.’
‘A kiss between friends,’ Alexa insisted. ‘It was nothing more. Meant nothing more.’ Puzzled by Linda’s persistence, she examined her face, until Linda flushed and turned away.
‘Sorry, none of my business.’
‘No,’ Alexa agreed quietly. ‘And I don’t expect we’ll meet again.’ But she hoped they would. Hoped it very much.
Her wish was granted. Six weeks later, he came in for a meal.
With a delighted laugh, she went to greet him.
‘Don’t poison me,’ he warned.
‘I won’t,’ she promised solemnly.
‘I have a niece to spoil. I fly over every six weeks.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said softly. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
‘Mmm,’ he agreed, that delightful smile in his eyes.
She seated him, gave him extra attention—and was aware of Linda’s disapproving glances. She didn’t care. It was good to see him again. He was a friend, and friends deserved special treatment.
‘No tummy ache?’ she teased when he’d finished eating.
He shook his head.
‘Then come again.’
He did.
Every six weeks, regular as clockwork, he would come along for a meal. Just one night—the first night of his stay in England. He would go to his hotel straight from the airport, register, dump his bags, and then come along to see her. But in September, everything changed.
She was busy that day, and so it wasn’t until late in the evening that she had a chance to talk to him. Collecting the jug of coffee, she walked over to his table where he was staring rather broodingly into his empty cup.
‘Need topping up?’ she asked quietly.
As though awakening from a dream, he looked up, stared round him as though surprised to find himself alone. ‘Sorry, Alexa, I didn’t realise it was so late.’
‘That’s all right. Day off tomorrow.’
He smiled rather absently.
‘More coffee?’
‘Only if you join me.’
Collecting another cup, she joined him.
‘Problems?’
‘Mmm. Need a husband, Alexa?’
Surprised, she just stared at him. ‘A husband? No. I’m already in... I mean, I have...’
‘A lover?’ he queried with a lopsided smile. ‘Yes. David, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ A little frown in her eyes, she asked gently, ‘What’s wrong?’ When he didn’t immediately answer, she reached out, put her hand over his. ‘Tell me.’
He gave a deep sigh, looked up. ‘I told you about my sister and brother-in-law being killed in a plane crash earlier this year?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed gently.
‘And about Jessica? My niece?’
‘Yes, that she was living with her grandparents, and that you’d applied for eventual custody.’
‘Yes. There was a court hearing today, and, although they will grant guardianship, they won’t, at the moment, grant custody.’
‘Because they want you to be married?’ she asked understandingly.
‘Mmm. They don’t like single gentlemen looking after little girls. Understandable, I suppose.’
‘And so she’s to stay with her grandparents?’
‘Yes, but they’re elderly, and although they love her, as she loves them, as a long-term solution it just won’t work.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ When he didn’t answer, just stared down into his coffee, she watched him for a few moments in silence. Such a strong face. A good face—and long, dark lashes that a girl would kill for. ‘Don’t you know any other women?’ she asked with a sympathetic, if disbelieving smile.
‘Not in England. And I can hardly ask any women of my acquaintance in the States to come all the way over here, give up their lives, for the sake of my niece, can I?’
‘Perhaps not.’ In an attempt to lighten his mood, she teased, ‘And what on earth makes you think that I might make you a good wife?’
He looked up, held her eyes with his. ‘Because you’re fun, and gentle—and you don’t bore me.’
‘Didn’t,’ she corrected. ‘I might have changed.’
‘And have you?’
She smiled, shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m still erratic, scatty...’
‘Warm, friendly,’ he put in. ‘We lived in pretty close proximity in Romania without coming to blows.’
‘True,’ she agreed with a smile as she remembered the spartan accommodation, the shared meals. ‘Have you been back?’
He shook his head. ‘You?’
‘I drove over at Christmas to take some bits and pieces.’ Searching his face, she asked kindly. ‘What will you do?’
‘I don’t know.’ Summoning up another smile, he murmured, ‘I’d better go. You’ll want to close up.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Stay if it helps.’
‘Thanks, but... It’s odd,’ he murmured, ‘you find yourself examining every woman you meet with a view to—motherliness.’ A rather wry smile in his green eyes, he got to his feet.
‘Will you stay over here now?’
‘Can’t My contract in the States doesn’t end