Convenience

Part 52

David grinned, ignoring the stares from other customers in the restaurants. "You really are an unusual woman!"

Beatrice forked up another segment of pizza and banked a smile. She had startled him. Perfect, she thought. She outmanoeuvred him. Perfect. That again nearly had her giggling. She glanced around. Beatrice realised that his laughter had caused several people to turn around to stare at them. Oh dear. Nerves and excitement vied for first place.

Oh yes, his wife was perfect for him. With that haughty gleam in her eyes, that flush of pink that stained her high cheekbones and that proud tilt of her chin she looked incredibly beautiful. If only he'd looked beyond the demure façade she'd presented five years ago. If only he'd invested as much attention in his private life as he had invested in his business life five years ago, they might not be at this junction right now. If only he hadn't seen her as nothing more than a millstone at the time when she left him. If only he knew back then, that their relationship was worth keeping.

Beatrice finished her pizza and with a sigh of contentment she placed her fork and knife on the plate and reached for her glass of water.

Within seconds the waitress appeared and after asking if they'd enjoyed their meal, had cleared away the plates, saying she'd be back with the dessert menu.

His eyes threw out an open challenge, as he eventually said, "Not sure I'd call it branching out!" He leaned back, "Taking a brunette to lunch?" His eyes twinkled. "Probably reviewing my policy!" David smiled and his eyes grew contemplative.

"Reviewing?" Her lips twitched despite the fact that she was cross about this. "Is that what they call it?" She forced herself to relax her shoulders. Beatrice wondered how she was managing to talk to her husband about his girlfriends without scratching his eyes out! Surely this wasn't normal behaviour. It was surreal going to lunch and rehashing with your husband the pool from which he selected his girlfriends.

"I imagine that's what the newspapers will call it when they run a story on us having lunch." David announced baldly and knew he had lit the touch paper to the next stage in this fledgling relationship.

Beatrice snorted and glanced around at the neighbouring tables. "I doubt anyone has even noticed us here." She nearly laughed. "And even if some of them did, they probably just assumed I worked for you." Her chin came up and he noticed the defiance in her eyes. Her eyes sparked. "I'm not blonde remember?" She did her best not to screech at him. But exasperation finally showed in her voice.

David told her cryptically. "When they realise that you are my wife, well," he shrugged, he kept his tone flat, carried on explaining, "don't say you weren't warned." He flicked her a look that suggested she was being naïve.

She frowned. She pulled herself together. He sounded far too sure of himself. Five years had passed with neither formally applying for a divorce. So why now? There was something in his tone that suggested he was counting on having been spotted eating out with her. Beatrice glanced around again at the others at nearby tables and then returned her attention to him. Not that it served any real purpose for the other diners all looked perfectly normal. She did not have a media radar, so identifying reporters was not something she would be able to do.

Beatrice was content with the state of affairs. Not surprisingly the media had not paid any attention to her. The media probably talked about the fact the 'this' married couple lived in different houses, different cities! Both maintained their positions of distance for over five years. In fact, David probably didn't even realised she had moved. She wasn't living in Auckland. Until she sent him a letter with her forwarding address. Just because, now, he remembered he had a wife, it was unlikely that the media would remember he had a wife. Best to just be direct. With a smile in her eyes she feigned relaxed pose. She knew she sounded gauche. "What makes you so sure we'll make the papers?" Beatrice quirked a brow.