in close and loweringher voice. ‘How are things going between you and the gorgeous Daniel?’
Chloe stopped chewing. If she had to say the equivalent of
no comment
just one more time she thought she’d scream. Even if it had been her clever idea.
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she said, after swallowing her mouthful.
Emma just grinned at her. When the rumours about her and Daniel had first surfaced Emma had given her a wide berth, but now she’d decided to buddy up with Chloe and live vicariously through her colleague’s fictitious love life.
‘I know that’s the
official
line,’ Emma said, her eyes gleaming over the top of her soup bowl, ‘but everybody knows there’s more to it than that. Come on … just one juicy detail …
please
?’
Chloe’s eyebrows raised. ‘Everybody? Still?’
‘Pretty much,’ Emma said as she slurped butternut squash soup off her spoon.
Chloe stared at her sandwich in dismay. She’d hardly seen Daniel in the last few weeks, let alone spoken to him. This ‘deny everything’ tactic had given her the perfect excuse to keep her distance.
‘I don’t know how you’re managing to be so discreet,’ Emma added between mouthfuls, so enthusiastic she dribbled a big glob of orange soup down her front. ‘If I owned a man like that, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him—at home
or
at work.’
Chloe closed her eyes. It didn’t matter what they did, did it? They were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t. Keeping their distance, only nodding at each other in hallways when they passed, was just as much a confirmation of a steamy relationship as if they’d stripped naked and done it in the middle of the Palm House.
But it had worked. Media attention on Daniel and his ex had lulled. Thanks to that blog article, Daniel wasn’t The One Who Got Away any more; he was The One Who’d Been Snared. Nowhere near as appealing. The women of London were moving on to pastures new.
‘How’s the pole dancing going?’ she asked Emma, and thankfully her friend took the bait.
‘The course finished and I’ve switched to belly dancing. You should try it!’
And as Emma gushed on about her new hobby an idea solidified in Chloe’s head.
She would go and talk to Daniel, suggest they end this
no comment
nonsense. She felt as if invisible ropes, projected by other people’s minds, were tying the pair of them together, each day becoming tighter and tighter, and it was making her itchy. It was time to break free.
And, thankfully, since Alan had also mentioned that the carnivorous plant display in the Princess of Wales Conservatory was being updated today, she knew just where to find him.
When Chloe entered the Wet Tropics zone of the Princess of Wales Conservatory she almost bumped into a woman in a raincoat standing at the slope that led down to the lily-pad pool.
‘Sorry,’ she said, but the woman didn’t hear her. She was too busy staring at something on the other side of the pond. Chloe followed her gaze and quickly worked out why. Not bothering to wait for a ladder or any other suitable piece of equipment, Daniel had climbed outside the railing of the stepped walkway that led from the pond’s edge over the water to the upper level. His attempts to hook a recently planted basket of trailing pitchers from a chain suspended from the ceiling were drawing quite a crowd.
Chloe folded her arms and enjoyed the view. She knew he relished finding plants in inaccessible places, particularly mountainsides, and he seemed totally at home hanging off the walkway, his feet pressing down onto the edge of the concrete path and the taut muscles of his outstretched left arm gripping onto the railing. His T-shirt stretched tight across his back and when he leaned a little bit further, exposing a band of tanned skin between hem and belt, there was a collective female sigh from the crowd of onlookers.
Chloe almost joined in herself. This was what had attracted her to him in the first
Chloe stopped chewing. If she had to say the equivalent of
no comment
just one more time she thought she’d scream. Even if it had been her clever idea.
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she said, after swallowing her mouthful.
Emma just grinned at her. When the rumours about her and Daniel had first surfaced Emma had given her a wide berth, but now she’d decided to buddy up with Chloe and live vicariously through her colleague’s fictitious love life.
‘I know that’s the
official
line,’ Emma said, her eyes gleaming over the top of her soup bowl, ‘but everybody knows there’s more to it than that. Come on … just one juicy detail …
please
?’
Chloe’s eyebrows raised. ‘Everybody? Still?’
‘Pretty much,’ Emma said as she slurped butternut squash soup off her spoon.
Chloe stared at her sandwich in dismay. She’d hardly seen Daniel in the last few weeks, let alone spoken to him. This ‘deny everything’ tactic had given her the perfect excuse to keep her distance.
‘I don’t know how you’re managing to be so discreet,’ Emma added between mouthfuls, so enthusiastic she dribbled a big glob of orange soup down her front. ‘If I owned a man like that, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him—at home
or
at work.’
Chloe closed her eyes. It didn’t matter what they did, did it? They were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t. Keeping their distance, only nodding at each other in hallways when they passed, was just as much a confirmation of a steamy relationship as if they’d stripped naked and done it in the middle of the Palm House.
But it had worked. Media attention on Daniel and his ex had lulled. Thanks to that blog article, Daniel wasn’t The One Who Got Away any more; he was The One Who’d Been Snared. Nowhere near as appealing. The women of London were moving on to pastures new.
‘How’s the pole dancing going?’ she asked Emma, and thankfully her friend took the bait.
‘The course finished and I’ve switched to belly dancing. You should try it!’
And as Emma gushed on about her new hobby an idea solidified in Chloe’s head.
She would go and talk to Daniel, suggest they end this
no comment
nonsense. She felt as if invisible ropes, projected by other people’s minds, were tying the pair of them together, each day becoming tighter and tighter, and it was making her itchy. It was time to break free.
And, thankfully, since Alan had also mentioned that the carnivorous plant display in the Princess of Wales Conservatory was being updated today, she knew just where to find him.
When Chloe entered the Wet Tropics zone of the Princess of Wales Conservatory she almost bumped into a woman in a raincoat standing at the slope that led down to the lily-pad pool.
‘Sorry,’ she said, but the woman didn’t hear her. She was too busy staring at something on the other side of the pond. Chloe followed her gaze and quickly worked out why. Not bothering to wait for a ladder or any other suitable piece of equipment, Daniel had climbed outside the railing of the stepped walkway that led from the pond’s edge over the water to the upper level. His attempts to hook a recently planted basket of trailing pitchers from a chain suspended from the ceiling were drawing quite a crowd.
Chloe folded her arms and enjoyed the view. She knew he relished finding plants in inaccessible places, particularly mountainsides, and he seemed totally at home hanging off the walkway, his feet pressing down onto the edge of the concrete path and the taut muscles of his outstretched left arm gripping onto the railing. His T-shirt stretched tight across his back and when he leaned a little bit further, exposing a band of tanned skin between hem and belt, there was a collective female sigh from the crowd of onlookers.
Chloe almost joined in herself. This was what had attracted her to him in the first
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