They’d booked a taxi to take them to the theatre and they arrived to find no sign of Stephanie. In fact, there was no sign of her at all until they were seated, and then she chose to make her entrance with the panache of someone who thrived on attention. Not that you would ever think it, looking at her, because she approached their row with the vaguely lost and bewildered expression of someone not quite sure of their surroundings.
Destiny grinned wryly and could imagine how many men would be watching the beautiful brunette, wishing that they could leap to her assistance.
She turned to point her out to her companion, only to find him staring at Stephanie with an open-mouthed, befuddled expression. He watched, fascinated, as she made an apologetic fuss of having to make everyone in the row stand to allow her to pass, yet, mysteriously, was not so bothered by the disturbance as to hurry in the slightest.
Unlike Destiny’s, Stephanie’s dress was brief, and the palest of blue so that every inch of her small, supple body stood out in sharp contrast. The wavy hair had been tamed into perfect sleek straightness and flowed like silk around her face and over her shoulders, halfway down her back.
It was quite an entrance, Destiny thought with amusement, and if it was all part of the partner-searching game, then it was working, because Henri, once the introductions had been made, had been reduced to throat-clearing, speechless wonder.
‘Remember the play?’ she was forced to whisper halfway through the performance, when she could yet again feel his head staring at the averted profile of the woman sitting to the right of Destiny.
‘You should have told me what she looked like,’ he said in a responding whisper.
‘And you would have prepared yourself by…?’
‘Putting on some aftershave.’
‘You’re wasted as a doctor, Henri. You should be writing sex manuals—especially if your key to mutual attraction can be summed up in one word, aftershave.’
‘Think of the money I could save all those poor men who spend their time buying flowers and chocolates.’
He fancied Stephanie. Frankly, any passing interest they might have had in one another had been, she suspected, the combination of their surroundings and a lack of basic choice when it came to members of the opposite sex. They understood each other and they liked one another, and occasionally that affection had manifested itself in a kiss and a cuddle, but she could see now that there had never been anything beyond that. She could feel him shifting restlessly next to her, responding to the woman on her other side, and there was no jealousy or envy, just amusement.
By the time the interval rolled round, it was a relief to get to the bar. At least there he would be able to talk to Stephanie instead of just breathing heavily and sneaking sidelong glances every three seconds.
But did he talk? Stephanie talked—talked with that animated, endearing eagerness that made her such a warm person. Destiny talked about how wonderful it was to be at the theatre for the first time, about the little plays she’d used to get her children at the school to do, dramatisations of the classics she had read over the years. But Henri could barely manage to piece together three sentences without displaying all the signs of a man bowled over by the sight of a woman.
In the end, it was Stephanie and not Destiny who saved the situation.
‘I don’t want to intrude on anything you two might have going…’ She raised her eyebrows expressively at the both of them, and, while Destiny firmly denied any such thing, Henri stuttered out his version of the same. ‘But I’d really like to get to know you, Henri…’ She lifted his spectacles gently and smiled at his confusion. ‘And this is utterly the wrong place. Too many people, too much going on…’
‘We can leave,’ he said eagerly. ‘Go somewhere for a bite to eat…’ In his haste, he slipped partially back into his native French and Stephanie looked delighted.
‘We can’t leave Destiny here by herself,’ Stephanie said quietly, at which point the bell rang and Destiny took matters into her own hands. She had never played match-maker in her life before, but there was a first for everything, and how much could there be in it?
‘You two go. I’m perfectly capable of enjoying the rest of this performance on my own, and I booked a taxi to collect us after the play. I’ll find my way home.’
‘Destiny!’ Henri looked mildly shocked. ‘Taxi? You’re—’
‘Independent, Henri,’ she said, smiling, as the bell rang again and the bar began to clear. ‘I was independent in Panama and I’m independent here. You can’t keep a capable girl down.’