Part 6

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They had walked aimlessly through the hall, idly stopping to finger fabrics, or smell flowers. But Donna had broken away from John's lose embrace as soon as they'd lost sight of Lance. After all, she didn't want John thinking she had taken it all seriously. It would be mortifying if he had.

For his part, John kept a safe, respectful distance from her, answering any casual query thrown his way. In truth, he was worried. Had he overstepped the mark by pretending they were an engaged couple? It had certainly sent Lance reeling, but was it at a cost?

After ten or so minutes of not communicating much, he placed a hand on her lower back to guide her towards the refreshments area. "Tea or coffee?" he offered.

"I'd love a coffee," she replied with relief. "And can I have a muffin with it?"

"Of course."

With a practised casual smile, he sat her at a table and then went to pay for some drinks. But it was with some trepidation that he joined her, placing her coffee and a chocolate muffin within easy reach of her motionless hands.

"So, I've just met Lance Bennett," he mused to get a response from Donna's silent form. Hopefully, she would start dishing the dirt.

She sugared her coffee without looking directly at him. "Lucky you," she griped, and took a sip. "Now you can see why I love him so much."

The grin he'd been wearing fell. "Do you really love him?" he quietly asked.

"I thought I did for a while. Soon got over that," she retorted, "but at least we can confirm he's still alive for his family."

"I've been thinking about that," John cagily noted. "Why is he keeping his whereabouts so secret? Doesn't this all smell fishy to you?"

"That would be his cologne," she joked, and bit into her muffin.

"Donna," he chastised. "His brother sounded genuinely worried."

She quickly wiped the crumbs from her mouth. "Well, he would. Most of his family are nice. It's Lance that's dodgy."

"I'd gathered as much," John agreed. "Which makes me wonder about this Racnosa company he works for. I think we ought to investigate them further."

"We?" she questioned. "I thought you worked on your own."

"Well," he drawled, going coy. He took a gulp of his coffee for courage. "I was rather hoping it'd be me and you."

"I don't work for you," she needlessly pointed out. "I'm only here as a favour."

"And because you're nosy."

"Alright, you got me there," she admitted, "but there's only so long I can get away with pretending to be your fiancée."

"Ah," he sighed as she sat, pursed lipped, head tilted to the side, as she waited for the explanation. "The thing is, he was insulting you and that made me mad. I couldn't just stand there and let him get away with it, could I? So, I said we were engaged to get back at him. Anybody would have done it."

"Would they have done all the touching too?" she wondered.

"In my position, yes," he maintained. "Why are you annoyed with me?"

"Oooh, I don't," she sneered. "Perhaps not having a say in you getting handsy has something to do with it."

"Most women wouldn't complain. Anyway, you seemed okay about the engagement part."

"That bit I could understand," she snapped. "And I agree that Lance deserved it. If you want to get handsy, maybe we should go back and let that teen bride woman touch you up instead of me."

"Her name was Linda," he corrected with an arrogant smirk on his face. "And I'm deeply sorry for doing that. Although… Are you jealous? No. Surely not."

"No," she hotly denied. "Why would I be?"

"Exactly," he agreed. Now feeling more perky, he saucily tilted his head to lay it on her shoulder. Peering up at her face, he stated, "You merely love me."

"I do not!"

"You smiled!" he crowed. "I saw a smile. That means I'm off the hook."

She pulled away, causing his head to slip off her body. "You are not. One cheesy smile and you think it's alright? Not on your nelly, mate!"

"How about I make it up to you?" he proposed. "Tell me what you want. We'll go and have dinner anywhere that you like."

"Talk about cruising on your looks," she complained. "I don't want you to buy my affection. Friends don't need to do that sort of thing. Being yourself should be enough."

It didn't take long for his arrogant smirk to return as he thought through her words, and he gave her a sideways hug. "That's really nice of you. And you think I'm pretty."

"Why would…?" she began to query; and felt the need to put him right. "Look, if I said something as ridiculous as 'you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen', you'd go all whatshername."

"But you still want to say it, don't you?" he cheekily insisted.

"Give over, you tart! As if I would."

"You'd expect me to compliment you in such a way."

"No I wouldn't."

"Okay. You would love me to say such a compliment."

"Alright, I'll give you that," she conceded, "but don't go putting words in my mouth."

"Better than worms."

Spluttering with laughter, she demanded, "How old are you? Five?"

"Give me a bite of your muffin and I'll be anything you want," he playfully retorted. "Anyway, add on three decades and you're almost there. Old enough to consider retiring from modelling."

She watched him swallow down the last pieces of her muffin with gusto, picturing him being alone. "Is that why you do this investigation stuff on the side? Something to do in your old age."

"Oi! Watch it," he exclaimed, staring at her. "If I'm old then so are you."

"Never said I wasn't. Especially where marriage stuff is concerned," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"You're not too old to get married," he protested.

"Maybe, but I am past it where motherhood is concerned."

His eyes went wide. "How can you say that when the average age to start a family these days is about 40?"

"Not in the world I live in, it ain't." She drank the last of her coffee. "It might be different in the lofty heights you move about in. That mythical world of fancy clothing, payable school fees and a live-in nanny to bring your child up. Us in the real world can't afford it and don't have the energy to cope."

In a small voice, he maintained, "I'm only a temporary lodger in that world."

"Says you."

"Honestly, I come from nothing. It's allowed me to treat my privilege as a huge holiday."

"I bet you've bought your mum a villa in Spain too," she joked.

His face fell in grief. "Something like that," he mumbled.

"Oh John. I'm sorry," she immediately apologised, reaching over to grasp his hand in comfort. "She must have been the proudest mum ever."

"Yes, she was," he admitted with a slight, revealing sniff. "Right. Time we headed for home and I returned you to your mother."

She risked asking, "Do you have to?"

Thankfully, it made him laugh.