The Bridesmaid's Secret. Sophie Weston
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the waitress had gone he leaned forward.
‘OK, Tina the Tango Dancer. Cards on the table.’
For some reason, Bella’s stomach felt as if it was in a free-falling lift.
‘At last,’ she said loudly to disguise it.
‘When I saw you in the club, I thought, I know that girl.’
‘You don’t,’ she said positively. ‘I’d have remembered.’
He was impatient. ‘I know I don’t. So would I.’
‘You need a better chat-up line,’ Bella advised him.
He ignored that, frowning at the salt-cellar. ‘I’m not putting this well. Maybe what I meant was, I am going to know this girl.’
He looked up quickly. She did not look away quickly enough. There was a jolt like electricity to an exposed nerve.
‘An improvement,’ she said flippantly, recovering.
Not fast enough.
‘You felt it too,’ he said on a note of discovery.
‘No, I—’
‘Maybe not then. Later. When?’ She saw him reviewing their brief acquaintance. ‘Outside the hotel. Then. You knew then there was something about me you—recognised.’
Bella shook her head vehemently. She was trying to forget the little moment that had tripped her up when she had thought he was lonely, and in recognising that loneliness had been forced to acknowledge her own.
The waitress brought their drinks. He looked at his double latte as if he had never seen one before.
‘It’s coffee made with milk,’ she said kindly. ‘Not as strong as the stuff they put in cappuccino.’
‘Don’t change the subject. You knew, didn’t you?’
The lemon and ginger tea was too hot to drink. Bella refused to meet his eyes and pressed herself back against the wall.
She could not ever remember feeling so out of her depth. She was a seasoned flirt. She was also glamorous and sociable. Men had approached her in every conceivable way. Some had interested her, some hadn’t, but she had never felt so uncertain. Her head was whirling and her pulses were thundering as if this was somehow momentous.
As if she was afraid of something in herself. Something completely new.
She said, as much to herself as him, ‘All I knew was that you were a great dancer and I love to dance.’
He leaned forward. She could feel him willing her to look up. She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her bent head. It was as physical as if he had touched her.
She said loudly, ‘That’s all.’
There were a couple of shift workers sitting at a corner table, stocking up on breakfast before they went into work. Bella saw them look across curiously.
They must look completely out of place—Gil in his dark, expensive coat and handmade shoes, she with the remains of her party make-up and a cropped top under her winter-weight coat. Completely out of place but a matching couple among the truckers and shift workers. It was a long time since she had felt part of a couple.
As if he could read her mind, he smiled.
‘No,’ he said quite gently. ‘That’s not all. You know it. I know it. It’s bad timing but I know it. No point in lying about it.’
Bella looked at her fingernails. ‘I don’t believe in bad timing,’ she announced. ‘There’s only bad priorities.’
Gil looked amused. ‘You sound like my management consultant.’
Bella flinched. ‘My sister is a management consultant,’ she said after a moment.
‘And you’re telling me the consultant’s solution would be to change my flight?’
‘Maybe. If you’ve changed your priorities.’ She stopped herself abruptly. ‘Heck, what do I know? I’m not the brain box of the family.’
His eyes were not only intense, they were very shrewd.
‘So what are you in the family? The beauty?’
Bella gave a harsh little laugh. ‘You could say so. Much good it’s done me.’
His smile was a caress. ‘It’s pretty damned good for everyone else.’
‘Oh.’ The compliment took her aback. He had not seemed to be the sort of man to pay compliments. ‘Thank you.’
He lifted his cup of coffee, toasting her silently. ‘You’re gorgeous.’
This time it did not sound so much of a compliment. More a kind of assessment, like her mother taking stock of what she had in her store cupboard.
Bella said slowly, ‘You don’t sound pleased about it.’
He made an impatient movement. ‘Pleased? Hell, no. It’s just another added complication.’
Bella stared. ‘Complication of what, for heaven’s sake?’
‘You, me and the advanced class in pair-bonding,’ Gil answered literally
‘What?’
‘Well, we skipped stages two through five right there on the dance floor tonight.’
Bella sat bolt upright.
‘No, we didn’t. We didn’t skip one single stage,’ she said outraged. ‘Your chat-up technique definitely needs attention.’
‘No technique,’ he said, spreading his hands eloquently.
‘You can say that again,’ muttered Bella
‘Not when it’s important. This isn’t a game. And, anyway, I’m not a player,’ he added with a grimace. ‘Not usually.’
‘So what are you?’
He leaned forward, suddenly not laughing at all. ‘A man in a hurry.’
Bella met his eyes. She did not want to. But she could not withstand that silent insistence. She saw he meant it.
He took her gloved hand and held it between both of his, as if that would somehow make her understand.
‘I can’t tell you how awful the timing is. Not just the flight tomorrow—no, today. Everything. I can’t tell you how much I’ve got to clear up before I can even think about dating.’
Bella withdrew her hand. ‘You’re married,’ she said flatly.
That stopped him dead in his tracks. ‘What?’
She felt a mild triumph. He was so totally blank. He had not seen that coming. Even now he could not quite believe she had seen through him.
Suddenly Bella began to feel in control again. She almost forgave him his deception. She was still a sophisticate in three continents. Nobody need feel sorry for her.
‘Your wife doesn’t understand you?’ she suggested tolerantly. She had heard it before and, oddly, it was one of the things she could deal with, unlike the roller-coaster of uncertainty that Gil Whoever-he-was had put her on up to now. ‘The moment you saw me you knew I was the sort of girl who would appreciate how hard you have to work. Or how much you have to travel. Or the time you have to spend with clients.’
He was utterly silenced.
She raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘Is that one of the steps you think we skipped at Hombre?’
For the first time he looked at her as if she was a stranger.
‘Go out with a lot of married men, do you?’ he asked at last, slowly.
‘You don’t have to go out with them to get to know