Call Me Cupid. Heidi Rice

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      That shook him.

      For weeks now she’d had him convinced that she was impervious, iron-clad. Chloe Michaels was merely a delectable package he was itching to unwrap. A prize to be won. So it was a shock to be reminded that she was a real woman, one maybe, that still had all the idiosyncrasies and puzzling insecurities they seemed to be preprogrammed with.

      But then the something he’d seen was gone, and she was back to normal—all gloss and glamour. All colour and scent. He breathed out, relieved that she’d tucked whatever it was he’d seen away, out of reach, and he didn’t need to worry about it any more.

      He didn’t say anything to her, just closed the distance between them, caught her hand in his, then led her out of the Princess of Wales Conservatory.

      Once outside they kept walking, still joined, far away from the glasshouse, up the Broadwalk and on. They stopped briefly by the lake in front of the vast Palm House.

      ‘We need to talk,’ he said, ‘about what just happened back there.’

      She nodded.

      ‘Somewhere private,’ he added.

      They turned their heads in unison and looked at the Victorian marvel of curved white iron and thin panes of glass not more than a hundred feet away. Although it was one of the prime visitor spots at Kew, and unlikely to be empty, it was filled with drooping plants and massive leaves. Daniel knew there were plenty of places to hide if one knew where to go.

      Once inside, he ignored the ‘No Entry’ sign at the bottom of one of the ornate spiral staircases that led from the floor of the Palm House to the gallery that ringed the dome. ‘They’ve just finished trimming the giant bamboo,’ he explained, ‘so we should be the only ones up here for now.’

      Chloe nodded and let him pull her up the stairs, unable to say anything sensible. She’d been fine while the whole drama had been unfolding back in the Princess of Wales Conservatory, cool as the proverbial cucumber, but now, as the damp heat of the tropical greenhouse seeped beneath her clothes and moistened her skin, she couldn’t stop thinking about the woman in the raincoat.

      The way the crowd had looked at her, with a mixture of curiosity and disgust... The poor woman had seemed so lost and desperate. How had she not known that what she was about to do would be a horrible mistake?

      The heels of Chloe’s boots clanged on the scrollwork metal steps and she shifted her weight so she was treading on the balls of her feet. She felt as if she’d left her stomach on the iron-grated floor below them. The air grew hotter and wetter, making it hard to gulp it in as she climbed.

      Ten years ago, was that how Daniel had seen her? Had he felt that same mix of revulsion and pity? She shivered at the thought.

      They’d reached the top of the curling staircase and she paused, taking in a steadying breath before following Daniel down the narrow gallery until they were almost completely hidden from view by a giant palm and a bushy cannonball tree.

      Daniel turned and looked at her.

      Yes, this was the expression she wanted to see on his face. Not a hint of revulsion. Slighty perplexed, if anything, because he’d lost that perpetual frown and his expression was the most open she’d ever seen it.

      ‘Thank you for what you did back there. I had no idea how to handle that gracefully. After Georgia...I just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.’

      Chloe couldn’t help but smile, just a little. Hanging off bridges and scaling mountains were what Daniel Bradford was graceful at. The interpersonal stuff, not so much.

      He shook his head. ‘This whole thing, ever since that stupid radio show, has been crazy.’

      ‘I’m hoping today’s particular manifestation was a one-off,’ Chloe said, feeling less scorn for the woman than was coming out in her voice. For some reason, she didn’t want Daniel to know that she’d identified with the poor soul at all.

      He shook his head, looked away for a second, and the tug on her hand as his weight shifted reminded her he hadn’t let go of it. She should step back, make it look natural, but she should break contact.

      She should. But she didn’t.

      ‘I don’t know how I’m going to take nine more months of this.’

      ‘Nine months?’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘I didn’t realise there was a set timescale for Valentine’s-related insanity. Or an expiry date.’

      One corner of his mouth twisted. ‘No, it’s not that. I’m getting out of here—going on the expedition with the South Asia team. Early next spring I’ll be back in Borneo and all this so-called civilisation will only be a distant nightmare.’

      Nine months? Chloe didn’t like the way her chest squeezed at that thought.

      ‘It’ll die down,’ she said.

      He frowned. ‘That’s what I thought at first but, if anything, it’s getting worse.’

      ‘I heard your ex on the radio yesterday,’ she said, ‘doing her monthly spot about her bounce-back year.’

      Daniel looked thunderous. ‘I can’t really hold it against her—the radio station is making her do it—but it’s the broadcasting equivalent of a full moon. Brings out all the crazies...’ His expression softened. ‘You helped, though. That woman backed off when she thought we were together.’

      Chloe nodded. ‘I guess the cat’s out of the bag—even if it was an illusory bag and an illusory cat. No comment isn’t going to cut it now.’

      He gave her an uneven smile. ‘If today was anything to go by, No comment wasn’t cutting it anyway.’

      There was that.

      She sighed and gently slid her hand out of his. He didn’t stop her. Then she turned and rested her forearms on the gallery rail and stared out over the Palm House, even though, because of the secluded spot they’d chosen, much of what she could see was the dark waxy leaves of the bushy tree in front of her. It was so hot up here. Her jumper was starting to cling and her fringe was growing damp against her forehead.

      ‘So what do you want to do about it?’ he asked, then leant on the rail beside her, mirroring her pose.

      For a long time neither of them said anything but, eventually, a seed of an idea dropped into Chloe’s brain from somewhere, floating on the wind. A few minutes later it had grown into a little green shoot of a plan, new and fresh and unexpected. She didn’t want to see any more women suffering the way that lady had today. And she didn’t think Daniel deserved the embarrassment, either.

      She pushed her weight back onto her feet and straightened. ‘Let’s make it work for us,’ she said.

      He turned to look at her, clearly unconvinced that was possible. ‘How?’

      She took a deep breath. Her heart began to pump faster. This must be what it feels like for them, she thought, for the guys, when they’re gathering up the courage to ask a girl out.

      But this wasn’t like that. Not really. Because she wasn’t really asking him out; she certainly wouldn’t СКАЧАТЬ