Bride Required. Alison Fraser

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ six weeks.’

      He frowned. ‘And the council haven’t noticed?’

      ‘Why should they?’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve left it boarded up, and the electricity and gas are still disconnected. Even if they did know, they wouldn’t care. They’re pulling it down for redevelopment soon.’

      ‘And then what? Where will you go?’

      The questions could have denoted genuine interest, but Dee was doubtful. ‘Why? Are you doing a documentary or something? “The plight of the homeless?” Been done before, mate, sorry.’

      ‘No, I am not making a documentary.’ He kept his patience—just. ‘I was simply wondering if you’d made any contingency plans for the summer.’

      ‘Well, I was hoping to go cruising the Greek islands again,’ Dee replied in the same flippant tones, ‘but my boat’s in dry dock at the moment.’

      His mouth tightened. ‘Don’t you take anything seriously?’

      ‘Like life, you mean?’ She slanted him a look wise beyond her years. ‘And where do you think that would get me—taking the long-term view?’

      Baxter saw her point. With nothing to look forward to and no way of lifting herself up out of her current situation, maybe it was best to take each day as it came.

      ‘Have you no qualifications?’ he asked in a manner that suggested he expected she had none.

      Dee decided to surprise him with the truth. ‘Nine GCSES—six As, two Bs and a D. I’m still working on my A levels.’

      Baxter grimaced at what he took for sarcasm. ‘Okay, message received. You want me to mind my own business.’

      Actually, no. Dee had wanted him to be impressed. To look at her in a new light. To talk to her as if she were worth talking to. But, no, she was just another homeless no-hoper to him—and to almost every other person who passed her on their way to work and the real world.

      ‘Give the man a coconut,’ she finally responded, just as Rick approached the table.

      ‘Coconut?’ Rick repeated, not much one for sarcasm. ‘I don’t serve coconuts. You want coconuts, go to one of those West Indian market stalls.’ He dumped two plates in front of them and waited for some acknowledgement.

      ‘Thanks, Rick,’ Dee said, with a commendably straight face.

      ‘Yes, thanks, Rick,’ Baxter echoed, in a voice also laced with amusement.

      They waited until Rick was out of range before they laughed together.

      It was a brief lapse, but laughter transformed her. From a belligerent, cropped-haired punk to a bright-eyed, spirited girl-woman. The change fascinated Baxter.

      Then she switched to being a child, eating her meal with wordless, indiscriminate haste.

      Dee had grown used to going all day with a virtually empty stomach, not allowing herself to think of her hunger. When presented with food, however, that was all she could think of. She didn’t look up until she’d finished every last scrap.

      It was only then that she was aware of his eyes on her, only then that she realised how greedy she must seem.

      His own plate remained untouched.

      ‘How old are you?’ he asked, not for the first time.

      ‘Eighteen.’ Well, she would be soon.

      ‘Good,’ he nodded.

      ‘Good?’ she quizzed.

      ‘I was worried you might be a runaway,’ he added, assuming she wasn’t.

      She had been. She had first left home last summer. It had been easy. She’d had it planned for months. She’d had cash, squirrelled away from birthdays, Christmas and pocket money. It had seemed a fortune, but it had gone after a matter of weeks and she’d returned home rather than live on the streets. Three months ago she’d run away again. This time no one had come looking for her.

      ‘This thing I want you to do will be complicated enough—’ he resumed the conversation, ‘—without any irate parents appearing on my doorstep.’

      ‘There’ll be no irate parents.’ Her mother was many things—pretty, silly, vain—but never strong enough to be irate. ‘So, if you’re thinking of murdering me, you can be fairly sure I’ll go unmourned,’ she added with black humour.

      It drew no smile in return. Instead he said tersely, ‘If you thought there was any chance of my being a psychopath, why the hell did you go with me?’

      ‘Why do you think?’ she retorted. She waved the two halves of the notes in front of his face, as he’d done to her earlier. ‘Anyway, you don’t look much like a homicidal maniac… So, assuming you’re not, what are you?’

      He hesitated, his eyes narrowing as if he was testing her discretion.

      ‘You’re not an actor, are you?’ Dee speculated.

      ‘An actor?’ His tone dismissed the idea. ‘What makes you think that?’

      ‘Because you’re so good-looking, I suppose,’ she admitted quite frankly. Of course, she wouldn’t have done so had he been straight. But he wasn’t, so it didn’t count.

      He was taken aback for a moment, then said, ‘Are you always so forthright with men?’

      ‘No, not with—’ Dee caught herself up, about to use the word ‘normal’. It was a minefield, trying to be politically correct. She switched to saying, ‘Not with some men. You know—macho types that interpret “hello” as an invitation to sleep with you.’

      His brows rose before he commented, ‘I suppose I should be grateful you don’t class me in that category.’

      ‘No, well, you couldn’t be, could you?’ Dee continued to display a newly discovered tactless streak. She dismissed a prospective career in the diplomatic service and ran on, ‘Does that mean you’re not an actor?’

      ‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ he drawled back, ‘but I’m something a shade more pedestrian.’

      She lifted a questioning brow.

      ‘Pedestrian—that means—’

      ‘Commonplace, ordinary, mundane… Yes, I know.’

      ‘Sorry, I thought—’

      ‘That “homeless” equated with “ignorant”,’ she cut in. ‘Well, don’t feel too bad. It’s a fairly universal reaction.’

      Baxter found he didn’t feel bad so much as disconcerted. He was used to being in charge, the senior man in most situations. But he suspected this smart-mouthed girl would be no respecter of age or position.

      He tried her out, saying, ‘Actually, I’m a doctor.’

      He СКАЧАТЬ