A Christmas Night to Remember(13)
‘Isn’t it?’ he agreed softly. ‘Are you hungry?’
Surprisingly, for the first time since the accident, she did have something of an appetite. She nodded. ‘A bit.’
‘Good. You need feeding up.’ Ignoring her grimace at the criticism of her thinness, he went on, ‘I’m going to pass on the Christmas fare and save the turkey dinner till tomorrow. How about you? The salmon en croûte looks good for a starter, and the lamb shanks with red-currant and rosemary to follow for me, I think. I’ll think about dessert later.’
Melody would have chosen the same, but felt the need to assert her independence. ‘I’ll have the wild mushroom pâté and then the beef in black bean sauce.’ She put the menu down and took another sip of champagne. The bubbles danced in her mouth as the wine fizzed and she reflected she would have to be careful. She hadn’t drunk any alcohol in the past months whilst in hospital, and this excellent vintage was as dangerous as it was delicious. With Zeke in the mood he was in she needed all her wits about her. She had never been able to resist him in the past, with or without alcohol.
The waiter glided to their table and as Zeke talked to him Melody was able to really study Zeke’s face for the first time that morning. He looked as attractive as ever, but tired, she thought, a little dart of concern piercing her heart. Had he been working too hard? Before their marriage she’d heard it wasn’t unknown for him to work round the clock when some drama or other necessitated it, and even after they’d wed there had been the odd occasion when she hadn’t seen him for twenty out of twenty-four hours. He found it impossible to delegate, that was the thing. Having carved out his small empire with blood, sweat and tears, he was fiercely proud and protective of it, and not always so sure of himself as he’d like people to believe. Particularly so with regard to her.
It had been that which had first captivated her when they had begun dating, she acknowledged. He’d been mad for her but touchingly unsure of how she felt about him, which had surprised her. He rarely talked about his early days, but when he did she’d come to realise he’d had massive issues about love and commitment in the past and trusting the female of the species.
The thought bothered her. She had been trying to push such truths to the back of her mind these past weeks. But Zeke would find someone else easily enough, she told herself in the next breath. Her grandmother had always said that love meant something entirely different to men and women, and that men’s love was altogether more earthy and transient. ‘Even the best of them will look for a younger, fitter model in time, Melody. Just you remember that and protect yourself against the day it happens.’
For a moment it was as though her grandmother was right there with her and Melody blinked, mentally shaking herself. Zeke had said her grandmother’s jaundiced view of life and love had affected her, and she hadn’t liked it at the time, but could there be some truth in it? Had it affected her adversely?
The idea felt like a betrayal of the woman who had raised her and sacrificed much to give her the dancing lessons she’d craved, and Melody immediately repudiated it. Men did obsess on a woman’s body and looks. The number of middle-aged women who were dumped during their husbands’ ‘mid-life crisis’ was proof of that. Men simply weren’t naturally monogamous.
She came out of her reverie to find she’d inadvertently finished her glass of champagne and that Zeke’s gaze was tight on her face. Silently he refilled her glass. ‘What were you thinking just now?’ he asked quietly. ‘It was about me, wasn’t it?’
There was no way she was going to tell him, but she had to say something to satisfy that razor-sharp mind. She made herself glance across the restaurant, which was gradually filling up, her stance studiously offhand, before she said, ‘Just that today hasn’t gone the way I’d planned, I suppose.’
‘Did you really think after three months or so of being incarcerated I’d let you do this on your own?’
‘I am more than capable of taking care of myself,’ she said tersely. ‘I’m not a child.’
His voice carried more than a touch of self-deprecation when he drawled, ‘Believe me, Dee, I’ve never seen you as a child. Exasperating, unfathomable on occasion, but never a child.’
She flushed at the sensual desire in the ebony eyes. She’d walked right into that one. Flustered, she sipped at her champagne, before realising what she was doing and putting the glass down so abruptly it almost toppled over.