The Beautiful Widow - By Helen Brooks Page 0,44
to consult you on furniture and fittings at least.’
‘No.’ He settled back in his chair, his eyes bright silver as he gave a small laugh, low in his throat. ‘And forget what the apartment in London looks like. I want a change, OK? Like I said, this house is essentially a family home—you can feel it in the very brickwork. Obviously I’m not a family man but that’s of no matter. When people walk through the front door I want them to feel a woman’s touch in the place, something warm and welcoming. My sister and her husband will visit often; I want their child to feel completely at home here.’
Toni grabbed at his last words for normality; she was feeling knocked sideways by the responsibility of what he was suggesting. ‘How is Annie?’ she asked weakly. ‘The baby must be due any time.’ Cowardly to change the subject, she knew, but she’d come back to his amazing declaration when she’d had time to think about it.
‘As we speak,’ he agreed. ‘Far from coming early, it now seems to want to remain where it is. She was due a couple of days ago but the doctors are satisfied all is well.’
‘At least it’s given them a chance to get everything ready.’ Annie and her husband hadn’t wanted to know the sex of the baby and so Jeff had arranged for the room they’d designated as a nursery to be painted in a pale lemon, according to Steel, who had insisted on buying all the baby furniture and equipment as his present to his nephew or niece.
Their meal came in the next moment but, although her steak pie was delicious, Toni found she’d lost her appetite. Steel had well and truly stepped out of his box this time and it disturbed her. He always disturbed her, but this time it was different.
A family home. She worried at the thought as she ate, like a dog with a bone. Was there someone in his life he’d kept hidden from gossiping tongues? A woman he perhaps felt he could settle down with? Someone special? And she’d have to be special to keep Steel. Someone very sure of herself, the way women constantly threw themselves at him, with a wit and intelligence to match his. Beautiful and confident enough to deal with any women determined to oust her from his affections, and strong enough to cope if the worst happened and he grew tired of her. A wonder woman, in fact.
She chewed slowly, the steak tasting like sawdust in her mouth. And why was she so upset at the notion of Steel with another woman? She would never want to be with someone like him in a month of Sundays.
The thought carried no weight, simply reminding her of her inadequacies. She was ordinary and always had been; he must have always been extraordinary to get to where he was now, and it would need a woman of the same ilk to hold him.
She found her insides were trembling. From the prospect of renovating and overseeing the job of making his house into a warm, inviting family home? No. From imagining Steel living there with the woman who had captured his heart? Maybe. Almost certainly. Which made her the biggest idiot in the world.
She pushed her plate away, the meal half eaten, and made the excuse she’d had a big breakfast as Steel raised his eyebrows and asked if she’d like something else.
As he shamelessly reached for her plate and deposited the contents on his own, she watched him as he tucked into the food with every appearance of enjoyment. What was it to her if he had met someone or did meet someone in the future? And why was she thinking like this today?
One of the barmaids appeared at his elbow, ostensibly to ask if they’d like more drinks, but as Toni watched the young girl flutter her eyelids at Steel she noted none of the other diners got such good treatment. The barmaid’s blatant come-on confirmed everything Toni had been thinking and surprisingly steadied her. It was an answer to a question her mind wouldn’t let her formulate.
She managed her treacle pudding and custard, and, when Steel’s eyebrows rose again, smiled, before she said, ‘I’m a dessert girl. I always have been.’
‘Annie’s the same. It used to be a battle to get her to eat her meat and veg if she knew a nice pudding was waiting.’
‘You always speak of Annie as though