Guilty Feet Read Free Page B

grateful he might very well be, but he definitely wasn’t in the mood for company. Not Libby’s. Not anyone’s. She set the tray down in the middle of the table and whipped away the covering with the panache of a magician at a children’s party.
    It did look good, though. Chicken with rice and roast vegetables.
    He shrugged resignedly, and when she produced wine from a carrier bag he hadn’t noticed she’d brought with her, he found a corkscrew and took two wineglasses out of the cupboard. The fact that he had any clean glasses available was down to Libby as well. Last night she’d insisted on tidying up the flat, and although he’d found it embarrassing having someone he didn’t know very well cleaning up after him she’d refused to take no for an answer. And she’d done such a good job he could hardly complain.
    ‘How did it go today?’ she asked him brightly as he poured out the already chilled Australian Chevin Blanc. She was seated by now, smiling and expectant.
    ‘Not bad.’ He shrugged. She was talking about the book that he’d been commissioned to write, which involved a very tough deadline indeed, and he took the opportunity to slide in a pretty strong hint. ‘I’ve only got three weeks left to finish it, which is going to be tight.’
    ‘How come you’re being so secretive about it all?’ she asked, ignoring the hint as she flicked her hair in a distinctly flirty manner.
    He sat down and carefully drew his chair back a bit, so there wouldn’t be any knee contact under the table.
    ‘I’m not being secretive,’ he lied. The fact was that he was being very secretive indeed, and for what he considered a very good reason. If it got out that he was doing a quick cut-and-paste job on VantagePoint, the latest five-minute-wonder boy band, then he was very much afraid that his professional credibility might be harmed. ‘I just don’t like talking about my work very much,’ he added lamely.
    ‘Why did you tell Aisling about it, then?’
    Dan, who’d just tucked into the first delicious mouthful of chicken, took a moment to reply. He’d forgotten how prickly she could be.
    ‘I didn’t tell her,’ he eventually said, truthfully now. ‘I left a letter from the publisher out and she read it.’ Luckily there had been very little detail in that particular letter, but he was still mad with Aisling for being so nosy—and madder still for passing the information on to Libby.
    She seemed pleased by this explanation. ‘That’s not really on, is it?’ she said. ‘Reading your private mail, I mean.’
    ‘It’s more than “not really on”,’ he said with feeling. ‘I’d call it bloody rude.’
    Libby agreed with a nod and, relaxing now, finally picked up her own knife and fork.
    ‘I didn’t realise you were such a good cook,’ Dan said, because it was true and because he was keen to change the subject.
    ‘I do a great curry as well,’ Libby replied eagerly. ‘Made from real spices. Not one of those awful ready-made things that come in jars.’
    He felt as if he was supposed to say that he’d love to try it one of these days, but he didn’t want to encourage her.
    ‘How’s the job going, by the way?’ he said instead, conversationally. He couldn’t actually remember what it was she did, but that didn’t matter. It was about keeping the focus on her. She had a habit of trying to wheedle information from him of a personal nature and he wasn’t in the mood for talking about himself.
    ‘OK,’ she said, ‘though I’ve just been moved to a different department and I don’t like my new boss very much. Her idea of managing people is to push them around.’
    ‘That’s what’s good about my line of work,’ he said. ‘Not much direct contact with people.’
    She looked concerned about this.
    ‘But don’t you feel a bit isolated at times?’
    He shook his head firmly. ‘Never.’
    ‘It must have been strange when Joanna moved out, though,’ she said in that wheedling tone that