Her Improper Affair. Shea McMaster
agree,” the new cousin said, with a wicked twinkle in his eye that fooled no one. “They’re just hopeless, but hey, at least the Californians make good wine.” He looked around the cabin. “So, are the newlyweds here too? I should give them my regards.”
Birdie pointed toward the last row of seats on the far side of the cabin. Drew was just rising from his seat, trying to figure out what the commotion was.
“Oi! Drew, my man.”
“Cousin Paul! What’re you doing here?” Drew started across the cabin but had to stop in favor of the attendant already headed toward the knot.
“Ladies, gentlemen,” the attendant said. “I must insist you return to your seats. We can’t have you all standing around blocking the aisles. Maybe a couple of you can swap seats to catch up?”
“Of course, love,” Paul said. “How rude of us. Oh, and when breakfast comes around, if you don’t mind adding a full English for me as well? I know I said I didn’t want food, but now I’ve slept a few hours I’m a little peckish.”
“Of course, Mr. Robinson.” She glanced at Birdie’s dad. “I take it most of you are related in some way?”
“Forgive me, Regina, love,” Paul said. “Totally unexpected family reunion here.” The smile he gave her was nearly identical to Birdie’s father and brother’s. In addition to the bright blue eyes, his features bore a strong resemblance. Only the hair color was different.
“How lovely for you all. I hope you have time to catch up over a cuppa in London. For now, if you please…” She indicated their seats.
“Of course. Now, Court, let me by.”
“Certainly.” Dad looked at Birdie first, then turned to Mom. “Randi, love, mind if I switch seats with Birdie? I need to catch up with Paul.”
Mom’s smile was a little strained. “No, of course not. Birdie and I can have some girl talk.”
Muttering, Gran turned back the way she’d come. Drew met her and took her to her seat.
Meanwhile, Birdie settled down beside her mother and caught a sideways glance. “What’s that?”
Mom sniffed. “You may be an orphan by morning. I’ll make sure I transfer enough money for bail into your account. Then again, any judge in the world would let me off, I’m sure.”
Birdie laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your father never told me he was related to Khan.”
“You mean, that’s Khan?” Both of Birdie’s brows headed for her hairline. “Really?”
Mom nodded emphatically. “Khan, lead singer of Neptune Satellites. I think that’s a punishable offense, don’t you?”
Birdie laughed. “Maybe, but surely not by death. I’ve sorta gotten used to him, and I’m pretty sure you love him. So yes, something evil, but not permanent. At least death permanent. You can scar him.”
“Scarring is good.” Mom nodded. “I can do that.”
Chapter 7
Fresh from the airport, door closed and locked behind him, Oswald dropped his luggage in the foyer and headed for the kitchen. His jacket landed on the back of a chair at the island separating the kitchen from the small dining area. Normally he’d take the time to hang it properly in the closet, but after more than fourteen total hours of travel he had a powerful need for water. First the California heat, and then the dry air of the plane had left him as parched as a desert.
Thankfully the housekeeper had been in that morning and the fridge was full of bottled water and a casserole with that night’s dinner ready to go in the oven. She’d also left fresh bread and fruit, along with the quick and easy foods he liked. Without opening the freezer he knew it would be stocked with a full week’s worth of oven ready meals. He may have liked quick, but he didn’t care for overly processed food. Thank God she agreed because whatever she cooked was ten times better than a frozen boxed meal. Almost as good as eating out, although she couldn’t quite match the pub for fresh fried fish and chips, a treat he only allowed himself once a month.
He pulled two bottles of water from the fridge and cracked open the first one. It lasted thirty seconds as he gulped it down. The bottle went in the recycling bin as he reached for a tall glass to pour the next bottle into. No point in gorging himself, but the first bottle had needed to be fast. The second wouldn’t last fifteen minutes, but he’d make himself slow down.
As he was calculating the time until putting the casserole into the oven and how long before he could crawl into bed for a well deserved ten hours of sleep, the bell rang. Nobody but the housekeeper should know he was home. His original schedule had him flying with the Robinsons, but he’d ducked out a day early without telling anyone in London other than his housekeeper and Court’s assistant.
Carrying the filled glass with him, he answered the door.
“Darling, I’m disappointed in you.” The pouty voice belonged to Deirdre Portman-Wright in the flesh, dressed in her usual slumming outfit. Designer jeans, glittery T-shirt, dark brown leather jacket that matched the boots with four inch heels.
“How did I do that?” The last person on this earth he wanted to talk to right now. Should have never answered.
“You missed my dinner party last night. I left the invitation on your voice mail three days ago.” Deirdre reached out a perfectly manicured red-tipped claw and touched his chest. The touch did absolutely nothing for him.
“Sorry, but I was in California for Drew’s wedding. I’m sure I mentioned it.” He knew he had. In fact, the announcement had been in all the social columns.
The woman actually fluttered her overly made up eyelashes. “I thought that was last week.”
Harsh restraint prevented him from rolling his eyes. Deirdre only followed her own calendar and never paid attention to anyone else’s. “No, it was this week. Tuesday.”
Her finger continued to make lazy circles over his chest. “Well you can make it up to me now. I’m dying for some fish and chips at your favorite pub.”
“Sorry, love. Just got in, literally five minutes ago, and I’m knackered. I’m heading for a shower, afterward I’ll warm something for dinner, and then it’s off to bed for me.” Then again, he hadn’t had a serious workout in a while. While dinner cooked he could go a few rounds with the punching bag in the gym he’d set up in the basement and shower on his way to bed.
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll join you.”
Oswald sighed and took a long drink from his glass. It gave him a moment to consider his words. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he let himself meet her gaze. “Really, I’m not up for entertaining.” Especially the kind she wanted. After last night, or rather the night before, with Courtney, he wasn’t open to taking Deirdre to bed. In fact, he wasn’t open to taking anyone to bed. Unless Courtney showed on his doorstep, and then maybe he’d change his mind. Since she was getting ready to climb on a plane, that was highly unlikely. Impossible, in fact. Oswald rolled his shoulders. Yeah, a workout was a great idea.
“Darling, don’t disappoint me two nights in a row. Nobody likes to eat dinner alone.” The sexy pout did nothing for Oswald this time. In the past he’d indulged her need to slum from time to time, but not tonight.
“I didn’t disappoint you on purpose last night, but I’m afraid I’ll have to do so, consciously and with great guilt, tonight. I’ve been gone over a week and I need to be up and into the office before the birds tomorrow. I’m afraid my schedule is booked for the foreseeable future.” And if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t admit it to her.
She tried the eyelash fluttering again. Still didn’t work on him. “All work and no play makes Oswald a dull boy.”
“I