A Rich Man's Touch. Anne Mather

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ always like the things you do best,’ declared Hannah staunchly, clearly sensing that she was on to a winner. ‘Do you think I could have a milkshake as well?’

      Rachel pulled a wry face. ‘Don’t push it, sweetheart,’ she advised, handing the dish containing the banana split to her mother and guiding Hannah’s chair to the nearest table. ‘There we are.’ This as Mrs Redfern set the dish down in front of her granddaughter. ‘Now I’ll go and make us a nice cup of tea.’

      ‘All right.’

      Hannah accepted her mother’s decision good-naturedly, and Rachel was leaning down to give the little girl a swift hug when the café door opened behind her.

      A draught of damp air issued into the room, but it wasn’t the sudden drop in temperature that caused Rachel to straighten and glance round in wary understanding. It was her mother’s sharp intake of breath and the shocked expression that had crossed her face.

      ‘Am I intruding?’

      Gabriel Webb stood just inside the door, his dark hair sparkling with drops of rain, the familiar overcoat hanging open over black jeans and a V-necked cream sweater. Ironically enough, he looked less drawn today, his eyes surveying the scene he had interrupted with narrow-eyed consideration.

      ‘Oh, Mr Webb.’ Rachel was aware of feeling totally out of her depth. Aware, too, that her mother was watching her reaction closely and probably not liking what she saw. ‘I— I’m sorry but we’re closed.’

      Gabriel turned and flicked the card that still displayed the ‘Open’ sign. ‘Is that right?’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t realise. When I saw you still had customers…’

      Rachel couldn’t look at her mother. She was fairly sure Gabriel Webb knew exactly who her ‘customers’ were, and she could sense Mrs Redfern’s antagonism from across the table. But, short of calling him a liar, she had no choice but to introduce them.

      ‘Um—this is my mother and my daughter, Mr Webb,’ she said awkwardly. Then, with a hopeful glance in her mother’s direction, ‘Mum, this is Mr Webb.’ She hesitated a moment before adding reluctantly, ‘Andrew’s father.’

      Mrs Redfern didn’t get up. ‘Yes, I know who Mr Webb is, Rachel,’ she declared stiffly, without offering him a greeting. ‘Hannah, watch what you’re doing. You’re dripping ice cream all over the table.’

      ‘Who’s Mr Webb?’ Hannah hissed to her grandmother in the kind of stage whisper that had to be audible to their visitor, and Rachel stifled a groan.

      ‘Hannah!’ she reproved, before Mrs Redfern could say anything more provocative, and then caught her breath when Gabriel left his position by the door to approach the table where the older woman and the child were sitting.

      ‘Hi, Hannah,’ he said, squatting down beside her chair and regarding her with warm approving eyes. ‘That looks good.’

      Hannah cast a nervous glance up at her mother and then, apparently deciding there was no harm in answering him, she said, ‘It’s a banana split.’

      ‘Yeah, I know what it is.’ Gabriel grinned, and Rachel realised it was the first time she had seen him so relaxed. ‘I used to love them when I was younger. Banana splits and strawberry milkshakes! I think those were my favourite things.’

      ‘Do you like strawberry milkshakes, too?’ asked Hannah, wide-eyed. ‘They’re my very favourite drinks. Only Mummy says that having a milkshake as well as a banana split will spoil my supper.’

      ‘Well, I guess Mummy knows best—’

      ‘Eat your ice cream, Hannah.’ Mrs Redfern had evidently had enough of this interruption to their routine. She looked at Gabriel. ‘I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than waste time talking to a six-year-old, Mr Webb. As Rachel told you, the café’s closed. It was my fault. I forgot to lock the door.’

      Gabriel got to his feet. ‘No problem,’ he said easily, his eyes moving from the older woman’s tight closed face to Rachel’s embarrassed one. ‘You’ve got a very pretty daughter, Rachel,’ he appended. ‘I envy you.’

      Rachel’s lips parted. She didn’t know what to say. Or, at least, she knew what she ought to say, what her mother was expecting her to say, but she couldn’t do it.

      ‘Thank you,’ she murmured instead, conscious of him in a way that was totally personal, totally inappropriate. ‘I’m sorry about—about the sign.’

      ‘Yeah.’

      He held her gaze for a moment longer than was necessary and Rachel felt as if the world around her had shifted on its axis. Then, with a murmured word of farewell for Hannah and a polite nod in Mrs Redfern’s direction, he started towards the door.

      Rachel hesitated only briefly before going after him. She had to lock the door, she defended herself, but she could tell from her mother’s expression that she wasn’t deceived. Mrs Redfern looked as if she knew exactly what her daughter was thinking, and Rachel wished she wasn’t so transparent.

      It was still raining, heavily, and Gabriel halted in the doorway. ‘Do you have transport?’ he asked, his eyes on her averted face, and Rachel quickly nodded.

      ‘Oh, yes,’ she assured him, wondering what he would have done if she’d said no. ‘Um—do you?’

      It was a stupid question and she knew it. The Webbs owned a fleet of cars. They employed a chauffeur, for heaven’s sake. He would think she was a complete idiot for asking.

      But instead of answering her, he asked her a question. ‘What would you do if I said no?’

      Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. ‘I don’t know.’ She moistened her lips. ‘Offer to call you a taxi, I suppose.’

      ‘Ah.’ His mouth took on a sardonic curve. ‘I imagine it would be awkward if you suggested anything else.’

      Rachel’s hand sought an unruly strand of her honey-streaked brown hair and tucked it behind her ear. Then, ‘Like what?’ she asked rather breathlessly, and he smiled.

      ‘Well, it’s obvious I’d not be your mother’s favourite choice of travelling companion,’ he remarked drily. ‘That is, if you were thinking of offering me a lift home.’ He paused. ‘Which, of course, you’re not.’

      Rachel straightened her spine. ‘I think you’re teasing me, Mr Webb. I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey—’

      ‘It wasn’t a wasted journey,’ he contradicted her softly. ‘It gave me the opportunity to meet your charming little daughter.’

      ‘And why would you want to meet Han—my daughter?’ asked Rachel tensely, aware that her mother was getting more and more irritated with this exchange. With good reason, she acknowledged wryly. She should have avoided any attempt to prolong this conversation.

      ‘I didn’t say it was my prime objective,’ he retorted now, turning up his collar against the rain and contemplating the weather with resignation. ‘Meeting Hannah was a bonus.’

      Rachel stared at him then. In profile, his face had a harsh beauty despite its strength. Narrow cheekbones hollowed beneath heavy lids and his lean mouth СКАЧАТЬ