Best Laid Plans by Patricia Fawcett Page B

good for your marriage as long as your husband does not find out. That was the mistake I made. Henri was stupidly jealous although it was rather divine having two men fight over me.’ She laughed but a rueful grimace accompanied it.
    ‘A lover?’ Monique felt her heart thud, knew her cheeks were blazing, knew also with a jolt that Sylvie was aware she had already found one.
    So much for keeping a secret.

Chapter Four
    F or Christmas Daniel had bought them each a bottle of the newest, hottest perfume ‘Bella-Sophia’. It was extravagant to say the least, particularly as she and Janet had agonized about whether or not it would be appropriate to buy him anything at all before settling for a joint present; a silk tie, chosen with the help of Marcus in Menswear. They despaired of Mr Coleridge in that department for he chose not to take up the offer of help with his attire insisting on going his own sweet way and in their opinion letting the side down big time. They were men of smart suits in that department and Mr Coleridge’s ubiquitous jeans teamed with a casual jacket and open-necked shirt did not cut the mustard.
    The handing over of gifts in the office had been a touch awkward, his little speech unexpected but sweet for all that.
    ‘This is just a small thank you to you ladies for all you’ve had to put up with these last few months,’ he said, reaching for the gifts, which they instantly saw had been professionally wrapped. ‘I hope you like this. It had better be good because it’s cripplingly expensive,’ he went on, saying the wrong thing, his nervousness odd but strangely endearing. ‘But Beatrice Galloway recommended it and what she doesn’t know about perfume isn’t worth knowing.’
    Beatrice?
    She and Janet exchanged a knowing glance.
     
    Brian was not a good front-seat passenger but then sheknew few men who were. With the seat pushed back as far as it would go, he stretched out his long legs in a vain attempt to look as if he was relaxed. He had complained already about the size of the car, the colour – yellow – the bumpy ride, the lack of acceleration and just generally been Mr Grump. Finally his ‘Are you sure we’re going the right way?’ had really got up her nose because she had done this particular journey so many times that the car very nearly knew the way itself.
    ‘It’s Christmas. Lighten up,’ she told him, perversely almost wishing now that she had taken him up on his offer to use his much bigger and far more luxurious vehicle but
she
had invited
him
and it seemed important that she should provide the transport.
    Despite his annoying sharp intakes of breath whenever she overtook, she accomplished the task of getting them there without mishap. It was a long drive and she intended to use it as an opportunity to chat; it was time she knew more about him. All the passion and lovey-dovey stuff was all very well but it did not give you much chance to actually talk as a couple and to dig a little deeper into his background. Having things in common was important, like it or not, and just now she was struggling to find anything that they might share or do together aside from the obvious.
    The pre-holiday traffic was predictably busy, though, and it took all her concentration to drive safely so their conversation on this trip was of a general nature and she found out nothing more about his childhood, his earlier life or the women he had maybe loved and lost. He was older than her so there must be an interesting back story but other than saying he used to live in the southeast he was giving nothing away.
    She was curious, not excessively so, but she had talked a lot at the beginning and given away a fair number of her own worries and concerns and perhaps with hindsight she had been a little indiscreet about her work. She saw whatthey meant by pillow talk because it was so tempting to talk about things to the man in your life, things that ought to be kept quiet. He was a good listener and