Madeline glanced despondently around the crowded restaurant, wondering what all these people busily enjoying their lunches had to talk about. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say herself. She wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t up to conversing with anyone. And she was tired from lack of sleep, and fed up.
Last night had been a disaster, so much of a disaster that she had spent the rest of the night pacing her bedroom floor, berating herself for thinking she and Dominic could spend time together in constructive discussion when even a fool should have expected it to degenerate into a slanging match! And not just a slanging match, she reminded herself heavily; the seduction scene had been pretty despicable too.
She despised him for that, if only because it had shown her how little he’d really cared about mending the family feud if he had been ready to risk it by grabbing her like that. And the new Madeline told her to forget him and look in another direction for a solution to the problem—while the old Madeline wanted to weep, because last night had proved to her that, far from getting over Dominic, she was still as vulnerable to him as she had always been.
Vulnerable. Perry had warned her but she’d taken no notice. Her own common sense had warned her but she’d taken no notice of that either! ‘He led you around by the nose,’ Perry had taunted, and last night she had come perilously close to being led by it again.
God, she couldn’t believe she was still that gullible, that big a fool! Dominic Stanton was just not—
It was then that she saw him, framed against the oak and warm brass fixtures forming the restaurant entrance—and her heart stopped dead, then began to bump heavily against her ribcage.
He had come after all. Despite all the bitter words she’d thrown at him, despite the contemptuous ones he had thrown at her, he had come, and she had to press her teeth into her lower lip to stop it quivering on a sudden wave of wretched elation.
So much for your new Madeline contempt! she mocked herself as she watched the slate-grey eyes search the busy tables.
He saw them. Over the top of Vicky’s bobbing head, she watched him fix her with a steady look, and had to squeeze her trembling hands together beneath the table as he began threading his way towards them, looking unspeakably good in a dark pin-striped suit and crisp white shirt, his lean face full of grim purpose.
‘…American through and through…’ Vicky was saying. ‘You know what I mean. All hard muscle and sexy politeness. Has a face like Superman and the body to go with it.’ She paused to allow herself a small quiver. But Madeline didn’t see it; she was too busy watching Dominic come towards them, unable to break that helpless eye contact they’d achieved from the moment he walked in here.
He came to a stop behind his sister’s chair. ‘Hello, Madeline,’ he greeted quietly, his hands going lightly to Vicky’s shoulders as the poor girl almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice, her eager chatter abruptly stemmed.
Madeline dragged her eyes from him to look at Vicky. She looked like someone who had been turned to stone, horror etched into her paste-white face. She looked back at Dominic. He was banking on her not making a scene in front of Vicky, but his expression was guarded—just in case.
‘Hello, Dominic,’ she answered quietly.
‘Do you mind if I join you?’ He requested smoothly.
‘Dom…’ Vicky’s plea was huskily offered. She hated scenes of any kind, always had done. Vicky might give the impression of being a very liberated and independent creature, but she was also acutely sensitive to atmosphere. She just looked at Madeline through huge hunted eyes.
‘Move your bag off the seat next to you so your brother can sit down,’ Madeline told her gently, bland-eyed and bland-faced despite the turmoil going on inside her.
A waiter appeared at Dominic’s elbow the moment he sat down, enquiring if the gentleman would like to order. Dominic shook his head. ‘I’ll just have coffee with the ladies when it comes,’ he dismissed, and the waiter melted away, looking relieved that his table reservations were not going to be put out by the late arrival.
‘How are the wedding plans going?’ He swung his attention back to Madeline.
‘Very well,’ she replied. ‘There’s still a whole month to go before the big day, but you know Louise,’ she smiled, ‘she’s well ahead with her planning.’
‘Charles Waverley is a good man,’ he said, no mockery. In fact, the mockery had been plainly missing since he arrived. ‘I hope Nina will be happy with him.’
‘I’m sure she will be,’ Madeline glanced at Vicky. The tension the poor thing was giving off was awful, and she sat with her head bowed to the empty space between her cutlery, hands lost and probably clenched beneath the table. Madeline’s eyes filled with tender pity as she shifted them back to Dominic. He gave a slight shrug, his mouth twisting ruefully. ‘Do you know Charles well?’ she asked, keeping her voice smooth and casual.
‘Fairly well.’ She saw his arm move, and guessed he had taken hold of his sister’s hands. The suspicion was confirmed when Vicky glanced up jerkily to catch her brother’s encouraging smile. ‘Vicky fancied herself in love with him for a while, didn’t you?’ he teased her gently.
‘I did not!’ she denied, the tease effectively bringing her to life. ‘He isn’t my type! He’s too—too…’ Her voice trailed off on a fresh wave of discomfort, her head beginning to dip all over again when Madeline suggested,
‘Bland?’ And was rewarded with one of Vicky’s rueful grins. ‘I know what you
mean,’ she went on drily. ‘He’s so—so…’
‘Bland?’ Vicky murmured, and they both fell into soft laughter.
‘Are women always so bitchy when they discuss a man?’ Dominic drawled.
‘Be glad you came along when you did,’ Madeline murmured provokingly. ‘You were next.’
‘Really, though,’ Vicky inserted quickly, fearing a row brewing, ‘Charles suits Nina perfectly. She needs a man who’ll protect and cosset her.’
‘And you don’t?’ her brother mocked. ‘I thought all women liked to be cosseted.’