Dangerous Entanglement

She shrugged her slender shoulders in a gesture of indifference, turning her attention to setting up the trolley ready to bring up another load of rubble. ‘Anyway, it’s really no concern of mine…’

‘Ah, there you are!’

Joanna turned, startled, as Annette appeared, a fairhaired young man in tow—the one who had been in the Land Rover with Alex. Until that moment, she had completely forgotten that they were there.

‘Sorry to have been so long,’ Annette added, blithely unaware of any tension between the other two. ‘I was just showing Greg the Nomarch’s tomb. Greg, this is Joanna. Joanna—Greg Taylor.’

Joanna found herself shaking hands politely, murmuring some sort of greeting.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Annette added, oddly breathless, ‘I’ve suggested that Greg and Alex might like to drop by and have dinner with us tonight. That’s all right with you, isn’t it?’

The words were casual enough, but there was a glow in Annette’s brown eyes as she glanced up at the young man by her side that hinted that it was very important indeed that she should agree. And he seemed equally smitten, smiling down at her as if she were the embodiment of all his dreams.

So that was the way the river was running! Neither of them had wasted much time, Joanna reflected, with a wry twist of amusement. It looked like a classic case of love at first sight. But it did place her in something of a quandary. The last thing she wanted was to have Alex Marshall come to dinner, but how could she possibly stand in the way of two such love-birds?

‘Of course it’s all right,’ she forced out, her smile rather brittle. ‘So long as they don’t mind what they get—it’s my turn to cook.’

‘Oh…No, it’s all right—I’ll cook,’ Annette offered quickly, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. ‘I wouldn’t want to give you the extra work.’

Joanna interpreted this very astutely as Annette’s understandable desire to show off her excellent cooking skills. She laughed with dry humour. ‘All right—I’m more than happy to leave it to you.’

Annette’s eyes signalled her thanks, but her manner towards Greg was breezy. ‘Well, we’ll see you tonight, then. We usually work here till quite late, so we don’t eat till about nine. Will that be OK?’

‘Yes, of course. Er…it will, won’t it, Alex?’

The older man shrugged his wide shoulders in a gesture of acceptance. ‘Oh, I think we can manage it,’ he confirmed lightly, the incipient smile that lingered at the corners of his mouth indicating that he was mildly amused by what was going on. ‘Thank you for the invitation.’

Annette smiled up at him a little apprehensively; it was clear that, in spite of her earlier boldness, she found him rather intimidating. Which was probably just as well, Joanna reflected drily; he’d eat her for breakfast.

As the other couple moved away, Alex turned to her. ‘I hope it isn’t too much trouble for you?’ he enquired just a shade too solicitously—he knew how much of an effort it was going to cost her to sit through this meal.

‘Of course not,’ she returned, the hint of frost in her tone intended to warn him that even if the other two were hovering on the brink of romance, it changed nothing between them.

But he merely smiled with mocking humour. ‘Then I shall look forward to it,’ he murmured, impeccably polite. He held out his hand to her. ‘Until tonight.’

Joanna hesitated, her heart suddenly fluttering in alarm at the thought of allowing those strong, sensitive fingers to enfold her own. But if she avoided the challenge, he would have scored some kind of victory. So she kept the touch fleeting, drawing back before he had time to capture her.

‘Until tonight,’ she concurred.

With a farewell nod, he swung himself into the Land Rover. ‘Come on, Greg, we’d better get going—we’ve got a ferry to catch.’

The younger man had some difficulty tearing himself away, but with a last wave he too climbed into the Land Rover, and it disappeared down the road in a swirl of yellow dust. As soon as it was out of sight, Annette gave a little skip of joy, dancing in a circle.

‘Oh, Jo…I Isn’t he gorgeous’? You do like him, don’t you?’

Joanna smiled wryly. ‘He seems very nice,’ she agreed, trying not to sound too cynical. ‘And he’s certainly keen on you.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Annette’s brown eyes betrayed all the soaring leap of her emotions. ‘You’re not just saying that?’

Joanna gave her friend a playful hug. ‘You’d have to be blind not to see it.’ She felt a faint twinge of envy, recalling how she had once been so young and eager for life—before life had taught her some hard lessons.

‘I had to invite both of them.’ Annette added earnestly. ‘It would have looked much too obvious just to invite Greg by himself. I didn’t want him to think I was too forward. You didn’t mind, did you?’

Joanna laughed, struggling to keep her grip on her sense of humour. ‘Mind?’ she responded, feeling rather as if she was drowning. ‘Why on earth should I mind?’

‘Oh…Is that all you’ve got to wear?’

Annette had spoken impulsively, and now she was trying to smile to soften the impact of her words. But Joanna was defiant. ‘Of course—what’s wrong with it?’ she challenged, a hint of belligerence in her voice as she surveyed her own reflection in the chipped mirror screwed to the back of the door.

She had chosen, from the rather limited selection in her wardrobe, a plain white cotton shirt, cut like a man’s, and a pair of loose brown cord trousers. She had tied her hair back at the nape of her neck with a green Paisleyprint scarf, and her only concession to ornamentation was a loose, quilted waistcoat and a silver-buckled belt.

It was a deliberately unfeminine outfit—unlike Annette’s swirling Indian-print skirt and pretty embroidered top. But then Annette would look dainty and feminine whatever she wore. And anyway, Joanna didn’t have anyone to impress.

‘It’s just…I thought…’ Poor Annette was embarrassed, and Joanna hugged her, laughing teasingly.

‘You’re the one to shine tonight,’ she reminded her. ‘They’re not coming to see me.’

Annette glanced up at her, frowning slightly. ‘I don’t know,’ she mused. ‘It struck me that Alex was more than a little interested in you.’

‘I doubt it.’ Joanna responded drily. ‘I’m not exactly his type—he goes for raving beauties.’

‘Oh, but…If only you’d make a little bit of effort…’ Annette began to protest. But Joanna cut her off with a forceful shake of her head.

‘No, thank you,’ she insisted. ‘It just leads to complications.’

A shadow of sympathy darkened Annette’s sparkling eyes. ‘Oh, Joanna—I wish…If only you could meet someone you really liked. Not all men are like your exhusband, you know.’

‘Oh?’ Joanna chuckled teasingly. ‘You’re speaking from wide experience here, are you?’

Annette giggled. ‘No, of course not. But you know, I never thought I’d meet anyone like Greg.’

‘I’ve no doubt he’s quite unique.’ Joanna conceded, with a hint of sardonic humour. ‘Unfortunately I’m finding that with every passing year I’m getting even more picky.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Annette protested indignantly. ‘You talking as if you’re about a hundred! You’re not even thirty yet!

‘It’s only another three months.’ Joanna smiled, wryly conscious of how much older she felt. ‘But even so, I can’t see any man matching up to what I want.’

‘What do you want?’ asked Annette.

‘Oh…’ Joanna tipped her head on one side, musing. ‘He’d have to have the sense of humour of Victor Borge, and the brains of Steven Hawking, and be as kind and caring as Bob Geldof…and as good-looking as Kevin Costner!’

Annette chuckled, her eyes dancing. ‘You’re not asking for much!’

‘See what I mean?’ Joanna countered.

‘But there are some men like that,’ Annette insisted, earnestly romantic, and then blushed a becoming shade of pink.

Joanna slanted her a teasing glance. ‘Like Greg, for instance?’ she enquired.