Catriona has been busy again 😂
'Am I completely mad, Tiger?'
For what felt like the hundredth time she let the curtain drop and turned back into the room, feeling the butterflies jitter in her stomach. Tiger blinked sleepily up at her from the rug and provided no answer to the question that she’d been asking herself all day in increasing agitation, ever since Mr Smotherington-Cliff - Patrick, as she now had to think of him - had issued his invitation - or was it more of an order? - to have dinner with him that night.
Why on earth did she want to get involved with any man again, on any level? After Warren…after all the anguish of their broken engagement and the horror of selling their apartment, dividing all their possessions—
The sharp ring of the doorbell broke into her reverie and she shivered, the painful shadows of remembrance clearing as she hurried to the hallway of the compact yet comfortable Victorian cottage she'd chosen for its tranquil, soothing atmosphere, so dramatically in contrast to the glamorous ultra-modern apartment she and Warren had shared.
She could see the tall outline silhouetted through the stained glass of the door and hoped she'd dressed appropriately for wherever he planned to take her. After much dithering she’d settled on a simple but flattering woollen dress whose rich amber tones flattered her colouring and heightened the subtle green of her eyes, with a gleam of gold at throat and ears.
As the door swung open, though, she was taken aback to see him looking oddly casual; gone was the perfect suit of office hours, replaced by an open-necked shirt and buttery-soft leather jacket, with jeans emphasising the lean strength of those long legs.
The shock of meeting his piercing blue gaze was still as daunting as it had been that morning. She licked suddenly dry lips. 'Good evening…..Patrick. If you give me a moment I’ll just find my coat.'
'No need.' With a flash of white teeth he was suddenly close, making her take a few hasty steps back as they stood together in the small hallway, and for the first time she noticed he was holding up two bags. 'I've brought dinner. Or the ingredients, anyway. A bit cheeky of me, I know, but I hoped you wouldn’t mind? Cooking's my life's passion and I don't often get the chance to practice for more than one.'
'Er…..' Catriona was aware that she was making a faintly incoherent noise and struggled to get a grip. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting. At all. 'Well, of course - that's absolutely fine. Marvellous, in fact.'
And maybe it was, she told herself, with a silent laugh. Why not go with the flow? He was already glancing towards the kitchen, clearly keen to unpack whatever was in those bags. She nodded over her shoulder.
'The kitchen's there. I really do need to warn you, it’s not exactly Cordon bleu standard, I’m afraid.'
'Well, that's good, because neither am I. But I'm not half-bad as an amateur, if I’m allowed to say that. I've brought a selection to cater for most tastes - how does wild mushroom risotto suit you?'
'I love risotto.'
Catriona couldn’t help trying to remember any time Warren had cooked for her - that was easy; he hadn’t. Cooking wasn’t man's work, in his eyes. But there was certainly nothing unmanly about Patrick Smotherington-Cliff as he moved with loping grace about her tiny kitchen, unpacking delicious ingredients, unhooking pans and asking with genuine interest about her taste in food and wine……
CONT'D P. 98
sorry. I'll stop now. Maybe I ought to get back to trying to write one again. This is too much fun!