Edge Of Deception. Daphne Clair

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СКАЧАТЬ me to this woman,’ he muttered, furtively looking about the room. ‘Over there.’ Quickly he averted his eyes, and Tara’s curious glance over her shoulder failed to identify which woman he meant.

      ‘Didn’t you like her?’ she asked, finishing the roll and picking up a club sandwich. Andy was almost fatally friendly. She couldn’t imagine him taking an instant dislike to anyone, especially a woman. He was so overwhelmingly grateful for their interest that he practically fell over himself trying to please them.

      ‘Like her?’ He looked as though the concept was beyond him. ‘She—she’s a professor! At the university.’ His expression was one of awe bordering on terror.

      Tara bridled. What had the woman done—deliberately intimidated him? If so, she was both cruel and a snob. It wasn’t Andy’s fault that he’d not been blessed with an academic brain like some people. ‘What did she say to you?’

      ‘Say?’ He looked at her blankly. ‘Not much. “Hello,” and “What do you do?” is about all, really.’ He swallowed. ‘I g-got her a drink and then took off to find you.’

      ‘What’s wrong with her?’

      ‘Nothing. She doesn’t look like a professor. But how could I talk to her?’

      ‘Just the same way you talk to me.’ If the professor didn’t like football, cars or pop music, she could at least have pretended to. Maybe she’d learn something. But maybe Andy hadn’t given her the chance.

      He shook his head. ‘She’s one of those intelligent women. What could I say to her?’

      A smile lurking on her mouth, a pastry case filled with creamed corn poised in her hand, Tara raised her brows at him.

      Andy looked at her silently, then blushed to the roots of his golden locks. ‘Sorry, Tara! I didn’t mean you aren’t—I just meant—I mean, she—’

      Tara laughed aloud, placing a comforting hand on his bronzed arm and patting it. ‘Never mind, I know what you meant. I was teasing you.’

      Relief washed over his superb features. ‘Oh—good. That’s all right, then. I wouldn’t want to offend you, Tara.’

      ‘You haven’t.’ She picked up her drink and hooked a casual hand into his arm. ‘Come on, let’s circulate.’

      She didn’t particularly want to circulate, but she wasn’t intending to lurk in corners all night, either. Unable to stop her eyes from travelling to where she’d last seen Sholto, she found her gaze colliding with his dark stare. His eyes flicked to Andy and back to her face, a corner of his mouth momentarily curling in contempt before he looked away.

      Shaken and hot with rage, she tightened her grip on Andy’s substantial arm.

      ‘Ow!’ he protested, looking down at her in surprise.

      Hastily she loosened her fingers, horrified to see the curved indentations of her fingernails showing red against his hair-dusted tan. ‘Andy! I’m sorry!’

      Recovering, he grinned. ‘Just give me warning next time, huh? Women don’t usually mark me there! If you like I’ll show you—’

      ‘No, I don’t like,’ she said repressively. ‘Behave yourself or I’ll throw you to your professor and leave.’

      ‘Awp!’ He looked cowed. ‘I’ll behave, promise!’

      Tara put on a friendly smile and without difficulty struck up several conversations, watching Andy regain some assurance as the women predictably reacted to his looks and diffident charm, and the men regarded him with covert envy.

      He seemed to be getting on with a group of mainly young people who shared his musical taste, and she was murmuring an excuse to leave his side when he grabbed at her hand and said in lowered but panic-stricken tones, ‘Don’t go away!’

      A young woman with a cuddly figure and halo of short, gingery corkscrew curls had joined the group, and one of the others said, ‘Jane—have you met Tara and Andy?’

      ‘Hi, Tara.’ Jane gave Tara a smile that lit her rounded, unpainted face, and then turned to her companion. ‘Andy and I met earlier, didn’t we?’

      Andy nodded, a strangled sound rising from his throat. His fingers convulsed around Tara’s, making her suck in her breath, but she heroically refrained from complaint.

      This was Andy’s professor?

      ‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you just said about the ThreadBears,’ Jane told him. ‘Hardly anyone’s heard of them yet, but in my opinion they’re the best group this country’s produced since Crowded House.’

      ‘You like them?’ Andy sounded stunned.

      ‘I think their music is really interesting,’ Jane said. ‘Don’t you? Did you see their latest video clip on TV last night?’

      ‘You like the ThreadBears?’ Andy repeated.

      ‘Yes, I do.’ Jane’s smile faded as she looked enquiringly up into his face, and then widened again. ‘I know,’ she said resignedly. ‘You thought I’d only be interested in fossils or dead languages or logarithms or something.’

      Cautiously, he said, ‘What are logarithms?’

      ‘I’ve no idea,’ Jane answered cheerfully. ‘I’ve always been too intimidated to ask. Something to do with maths. My field is popular culture.’

      Perhaps she wasn’t quite so young as her curls and fresh complexion made her appear.

      It took a few minutes for Andy to progress from uneasy monosyllables to entire sentences, but Jane’s enthusiasm and her respect for his opinions soon opened him up. He gradually relaxed his death grip on Tara’s hand, eventually freeing it so that he could wave his own hand to make a point.

      ‘I’ll fetch some more drinks,’ she murmured, taking his empty beer glass in nearly numbed fingers. He hardly noticed as she slipped away.

      Near the bar a few people were dancing to a tape player. One of the guests was dispensing drinks, and Philip was among the dancers, his arms wrapped about his wife.

      ‘Been married fifteen years, those two,’ the man behind the bar confided as he poured a beer for Andy and an iced tonic for Tara, ‘and look at them. Beauty, isn’t it?’

      Tara smiled, hiding a pang of envy. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘They’re very lucky.’

      She picked up the glasses and turned carefully, to find her way blocked by a white designer shirt and charcoal dinner jacket. Sholto, holding two empty wine glasses.

      He was inches away, both of them halting suddenly to avoid a collision. He looked at the drinks in her hands and said softly, so that only she could hear, ‘Doesn’t Lover-boy have the manners to fetch his own drink—and yours?’

      ‘He’s having an interesting conversation. I offered.’

      ‘Conversation?’ Sholto drawled. ‘I have it on good authority that the guy’s as thick СКАЧАТЬ