A Most Suitable Wife. Jessica Steele

was not impressed by what he saw, because his expression seemed to tighten when bluntly he challenged, ‘You have a date?’

      Any embarrassment she had felt disappeared as her annoyance surged. As if it had anything to do with him if she had a date or not!

      But this was no way to go on. She was stuck with him until the end of September at least. With difficulty she swallowed down her ire, her glance flicking over his fresh shirt and lounge suit. ‘You don’t actually appear dressed for staying in,’ she replied. She smiled. He stared at her upturned mouth, his gaze lingering for a second before suddenly his grey eyes moved up to her lovely blue eyes. His eyes hardened; he did not smile.

      With no idea what to make of him she went into the kitchen to wait until Julian called. She knew quite a few men whom she thought she could regard as friends. They were an eclectic mix at Julian Coombs Comestibles and she got on well with all of them. But this man, this Magnus Ashthorpe, was something else again! He might be totally trustworthy, and Claudia Sturgess might think he would make a first-class tenant but, Taye owned, changing her mind about not having done too badly to have him as a fellow tenant, right now she was finding him extremely hard work.

      Thankfully Julian arrived ten minutes before the appointed time, so she did not have to hang about in the kitchen over-long. She went to the intercom to check that it was Julian ringing the bell, and while releasing the outer door catch she turned to her flat-share and civilly informed him that she did not think she would be late.

      Like he cared! He looked unblinking back at her. And suddenly she was remembering their conversation about privacy. ‘Er—will you be bringing anyone back?’ she enquired nicely—like she cared!

      For a moment she thought he was going to let her whistle for an answer. But then, dryly, he replied, ‘We’ll go to hers.’

      Her lips twitched. What was it about this man? He had not intended to amuse her with his ‘go to hers’ but, when she did not particularly like him half of the time, he seemed to have the oddest ability to make her want to laugh.

      Julian tapping lightly on the door did away with any further speculation. She went and let him in and, as a courtesy—one of them should make an effort to make this flat-share work—she took Julian into the sitting room and introduced him to Magnus.

      It pleased her to discover that there was nothing wrong with Magnus’s manners when there was a third person present. He shook hands with Julian and in the few minutes before she and Julian went out to Julian’s car exchanged politenesses and showed that he was not lacking when it came to social graces.

      ‘I imagined your new flat-mate to be somewhere in his early twenties,’ Julian opined as they drove along. ‘He—Magnus—he’s quite sophisticated, isn’t he? You know, he’s got that sort of confident air about him.’

      ‘I suppose he has. I’ve not really thought about it.’

      ‘You’re getting along all right?’ Julian asked.

      Taye wasn’t truly sure that they were ‘getting along all right’, but diplomatically replied, ‘I don’t see very much of him. I think he has a date tonight, so I may not see him again before morning.’ And probably not then if he stays out all night up to no good at ‘hers’.

      ‘Her’ was probably Pen—Penelope, Penny—Taye mused, and then forgot about the pair of them, or tried to, as she gave herself over to enjoying her evening. Julian was three years older than her. He was pleasant and charming, good, undemanding company, and she liked him very much. He was easy to get along with and seemed to agree with everything she said.

      So much so that, when she caught herself thinking that she would not mind too much hearing if he had an opposing view, she began to wonder for one panicky moment if she had inherited some of her mother’s traits and would turn into some cantankerous woman who liked to argue purely for the sake of it.

      Taye felt better when she thought of the many times her mother had thrown at her that, while she had inherited Greta Trafford’s beauty—her mother’s words, not Taye’s—she had inherited nothing else of her but was in temperament totally her father’s daughter.

      ‘Shall we have coffee here?’ Julian asked. ‘Or we could go back to my place? I make a splendid cup of coffee.’

      Julian had a flat about fifteen minutes away from where she lived. And Taye had once been back to his flat for coffee. They had kissed a little, she recalled, and it had been quite enjoyable getting some practice in. But she never had been too free with her kisses and, while finding Julian physically attractive, he was not so attractive that she lost sight of what was right for her. To make love with him had not been right then. Who knew? It might be at some future date. But for now that time had not arrived.

      ‘Coffee here, shall we? Do you mind?’

      ‘Yes, I mind,’ Julian replied, but, as ever the nice person he truly was, ‘But anything you say,’ he added, and grinned.

      Most oddly, though, she did not feel like asking him in when he stopped his car outside her building. ‘I won’t ask you in,’ she said, adding quickly for an excuse, ‘Magnus may have changed his mind and decided to do a bit of—er—entertaining at home, and until I get to know him better I shouldn’t like to embarrass him.’ The idea that arrogant Magnus Ashthorpe would ever be embarrassed about anything was laughable, but Julian accepted her excuse.

      ‘Come out with me tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘We could…’

      ‘I’d rather planned to visit my father tomorrow,’ she found she was inventing on the spot.

      Julian swallowed any disappointment. ‘He lives in Warwickshire, doesn’t he? I think I remember you mentioning it one time. I’ll drive you down, if you like?’

      ‘I couldn’t let you,’ she answered quickly. ‘It will be no trouble for my father to pick me up from the station. I’d better go in,’ she said in a rush—and just had to wonder what had got into her that, when she quite enjoyed Julian’s company, she should put him off. And why when, as they left the car and he walked to the outer door with her, he went to take her in his arms, as he had a few times before, she should experience a feeling of not wanting to be kissed.

      And what was even more odd was that an image of Magnus Ashthorpe should at that moment spring to mind. ‘Goodnight, Julian. I’ve had a lovely time,’ she said.

      And, mentally sticking her tongue out at that Magnus Ashthorpe image, she stretched up and kissed Julian—though quickly pulled back when she felt his arms begin to tighten about her. He let her go and she went indoors, still pondering what was going on in her psyche.

      To her surprise there was a light on in the sitting room when she went in. ‘I didn’t expect to see you back,’ she recovered to say pleasantly to Magnus, who used the remote and switched off the television. ‘Don’t do that on my account,’ she hurriedly bade him.

      ‘It had just finished. Have a good time?’ he thought to ask. She liked him better like this.

      ‘Julian’s excellent company. I’m about to make a drink. Would you like one?’ Perhaps they could set about creating some kind of flat-sharing harmony, some flat-sharing give and take.

      ‘Thank you,’ he accepted, but followed her into the kitchen.

      ‘Did you have a nice time?’ she kept up the politeness to enquire.

      ‘So-so,’ he replied, and Taye suspected Penny was on her way out. Her lips twitched at the touch of whimsy that came to her that the Penny was about to be dropped.

      ‘Thoughts of Julian make you smile?’ Magnus interrupted her trend—and suddenly he sounded quite grim.

      ‘I told you—he’s very good company,’ she reminded him. Grief, this man was never the same two minutes together!

      ‘I seem to know his name from somewhere?’

      ‘You’ve probably heard of his father—Julian Coombs of Julian Coombs Comestibles.