Free Rumor Has It by Jill Mansell Page B

round for the evening and was cooking him a proper dinner imply that the rest would follow? Was he wondering if it might happen or did he know for sure? It was one of those questions you couldn't just blurt out, just as she hadn't been able to say casually to Fergus, 'Oh, and by the way, when you come over for dinner on Thursday we'll have sex afterwards, if that's all right with you.'
         If he wanted to.
        Yerk, that hadn't occurred to her before now. What if it wasn't all right with him? What if he looked horrified and said, 'Actually, would you mind awfully if we didn't?'
        Erin swallowed. God, something else to worry about. Although let's face it, she'd never yet met a man who'd said no.
        'Fantastic smell.'
        'It's roast chicken.'
        He shook his head. 'Nope.'
        'Oh. Red wine sauce.'
        'Not that either. It's you.' Fergus flashed his lopsided boyish smile. 'You're the one who smells fantastic.'
        She was wearing her favorite perfume. Jo Malone's Pomegranate Noir. Erin felt all warm inside; wait until she got him into bed and he discovered she'd sprayed it on the sheets.

    'That was brilliant.' Finishing his dinner, Fergus pushed his plate to one side and gave her hand a squeeze. 'Clever girl. Thank you.'
        'It's a miracle we could eat any of it, the way you kept putting me off.' Erin loved his hearty appetite; it had been hard to concentrate on cooking with Fergus in the kitchen. Distracted, she'd sprinkled sugar instead of salt into the red wine sauce but by happy accident this hadn't done it any harm. And if Gordon Ramsay had been here, he might complain that the zucchini had been fried in butter for too long, but… well, that was why she'd invited Fergus for dinner and not the ultra-picky celebrity chef.
        'I like putting you off.' Fergus grinned, then pulled a face as his phone burst into life.
        'You'd better answer it,' said Erin. 'Might be work.'
        'I'm not being dragged out this evening. Not for any client.' Leaning back on his chair and reaching behind him for his discarded jacket, Fergus located the still-ringing mobile. When he saw who was calling, he grimaced again and glanced across at Erin. But he didn't answer it and the next moment the ringing stopped.
        'Work?'
        'No. No one important.'
        'Pudding?' Relieved, Erin collected the plates.
        Fergus relaxed. 'Now that's what I call important.'
        'Let's hope I didn't put salt in it.' Bee-eep went the phone in Fergus's hand, indicating that a message had been left. He put it down on the table.
        'Aren't you going to listen to your message?'
        'Nope.' He broke into a smile. 'I told you, it's my evening off. Let me give you a hand with those plates.'
        As they were eating their lemon syrup pudding, the phone rang again. This time Fergus switched it off before calmly helping himself to more cream.
        'One of your other girlfriends?' Erin meant it jokily but regret ted it the moment the words were out of her mouth; not only might Fergus think she was revealing a jealous, possessive side, but she was actually implying that she was his girlfriend. Presumptuous or what? She waved her fork apologetically. 'Sorry. Just ignore me.'
        'Hey, don't worry. As if I could ignore you anyway.' Fergus shook his head. 'I've loved these last few weeks. You have no idea how much.' He paused, mentally replayed what he'd just said, then blurted out, 'Oh God, now it's my turn. That sounds as if I'm telling you it's all over. I'm not, I promise. In fact, quite the opposite. I think you're fantastic… Shit, look at me, getting all flustered and tongue-tied. This never happens at work. Ask me to sell a house and I can do it, no problem. But here with you, trying to tell you how I feel… well, I suppose I'm out of practice.'
        Erin couldn't eat anymore. 'It doesn't matter.'
        'It does . I really like you.' Fergus