Her Secret Pregnancy. Sharon Kendrick

in the rooms upstairs, and had worked her way through some of the more delicious leftovers which had found their way back to the kitchen. And just once she’d eaten with the rest of the staff in the private function room upstairs, when Marcus had been jubilantly celebrating a glowing newspaper review.

      Donna swallowed down that particular memory. But she’d certainly never eaten a full meal in the fabulous restaurant.

      ‘No, I haven’t.’

      ‘Then I’ll get someone to show you to your table.’

      Donna followed one of the waiters, determined not to feel intimidated, telling herself that she’d worked and eaten in places just like this all over the world.

      Yet her heart was still racing with anticipation that she might see him, and she wondered why.

      Because she was over Marcus.

      She had been for years.

      The restaurant was already almost full and Tony Paxman rose to his feet as she approached. ‘I was beginning to think you’d stood me up!’

      ‘Oh, ye of little faith!’ she joked, smiling up at the waiter, who was hovering attentively. ‘Some house champagne, please. We’re celebrating!’

      ‘Certainly, madam.’

      Tony Paxman waited until he was on his second glass before remarking obscurely, ‘Let’s hope you’ll still have something to celebrate six months down the line.’

      The bubbles inside her mouth burst. ‘Meaning?’

      He shrugged. ‘Just that Marcus Foreman won’t exactly be overjoyed when he finds out that you’re opening up a new restaurant in the same town.’

      ‘Oh?’ Donna slid a green olive into her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. ‘Everyone knows he has an awesome reputation in the catering industry—surely he’s man enough to take a little honest competition?’

      ‘I should imagine he’s man enough for most things,’remarked Tony Paxman drily. ‘Just maybe not in the very same street.’

      Donna placed the olive stone in a small dish in front of her. ‘Anyway, I’m hardly going to be a serious rival, am I? Think about it—his hotel only serves afternoon tea to its residents.’

      ‘True. But what if they start coming to you instead?’

      Donna shrugged. ‘It’s a free country, and there is always room for excellence.’ She gave a huge smile as she lifted her glass in a toast. ‘So may the best man win!’

      ‘Or woman?’ Tony murmured.

      Donna looked down the menu, spoilt for choice. ‘Let’s order, shall we? I’m starving!’

      ‘Sounds good. Then you can tell me your life story.’ He frowned. ‘You know, your hair is the most amazing golden-red colour. I bet you used to dress up as a princess when you were a little girl!’

      ‘No, I was the one with the long face, wearing rags!’ Donna joked, though it wasn’t really a joke at all.

      She’d experienced just about every emotion it was possible to feel about her itinerant childhood with a loving but ultimately foolish mother. At her knee she had learnt the arts of exaggeration and evasion, and had then learnt that they were just different words for lying. And lies could grow bigger and bigger, until they swamped you like a wave and dragged you under with them.

      She smiled at Tony Paxman. ‘Let’s talk about you instead. And then you can tell me all about Winchester.’

      He began to talk, and Donna tried very hard to enjoy the meal and his company. To make witty small-talk as adults always did. Pleasant chatter that didn’t mean a thing.

      But she was too distracted by her surroundings to be able to concentrate very much. Even on the food. Weird. She hadn’t banked on Marcus still being able to affect her desire to eat.

      He’d always employed the most talented chefs—even in the early days, when he hadn’t been able to afford to pay them very much. And it seemed that his standards hadn’t slipped. Not by a fraction. Donna gazed at a perfect pyramid of chocolate mousse which sat in a puddle of banana sauce.

      Maybe she was completely mad to set herself up in some sort of competition with a man who had always been regarded within the industry as having both flair and foresight.

      ‘Donna,’ said Tony suddenly.

      She pushed the pudding plate away from her and looked up. ‘Mmm?’

      ‘Why did you ask me to have lunch with you today?’ He swallowed a mouthful of wine and refilled his glass, then began answering his own question without appearing to notice he was doing it. ‘Because it sure as hell wasn’t because you wanted to take our relationship any further.’

      She stared at him in confusion. ‘But I told you that back in the office.’

      ‘I guess you did.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe I hoped I could change your mind.’

      ‘Sorry,’ she said softly, and sat back in her chair to look at him. ‘The lunch is to say thank you.’

      ‘For?’

      ‘For tying up the deal without complications and for keeping it secret.’

      ‘Ah, yes.’ He sipped his drink and watched her. ‘I meant to ask you about that. Why the big secret? Why wasn’t anyone allowed to know?’

      ‘It’s no secret any more.’ She smiled. ‘You can tell who you like.’

      He leaned across the table. ‘You told me that you’d never eaten here before.’

      ‘Well, I haven’t.’

      ‘But this isn’t the first time you’ve been here, is it?’

      Donna’s eyes narrowed with interest. She hadn’t been expecting perception. Not from him. ‘What makes you say that?’

      ‘Your body language. I spend my life observing it—goes with the job. I’m an expert!’ he boasted.

      Not such an expert, Donna thought, that he had been able to recognise that she was sending out don’t-come-close messages. Still, there was no point trying to exist with misunderstanding and deceit flying around the place. She knew that more than anyone. ‘I used to work here,’ she told him. ‘Years ago. When I was young.’

      ‘You’re hardly ancient now.’

      ‘I’m twenty-seven!’

      ‘Old enough to know better?’ he teased.

      ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ came a silky drawl from behind Donna’s right shoulder. ‘Not if past experience is anything to go on. Don’t you agree, Donna?’

      She didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to. She would have recognised that voice if it had come distorted at her in the dark from a hundred miles away. A split-second of dazed recognition stretched out in front of her like a tightrope. She moved her head back by a fraction—and she could almost feel his presence, though she still couldn’t see him.

      ‘Hello, Marcus,’ she said carefully, wondering how her voice sounded to him. Older and wiser? Or still full of youthful awe?

      He moved into eyeshot—though heaven only knew how long he’d been in earshot for. But he didn’t look at Donna straight away. He was staring down at Tony Paxman, so that Donna was able to observe him without him noticing.

      And, oh. Oh, oh, oh! Her heart thumped out of control before she could stop it.

      She had known that she would see him again, and she had practised in her head for just this moment. Some devil deep in her heart had wondered if his hair might be thinning. If he had allowed his wealth and success to go to his stomach and piled on weight. Or if he might have developed some kind of stoop. Or started wearing hideous clothes which didn’t suit him.