Free A Song in the Night by Julie Maria Peace Page A

Mel had offered to lend her. Mel had pinned her hair up, done her nails, and now Rosie was sitting across from Gavin, aware that he was looking intently at her.
    “You’re looking lovely tonight, Rosie.” Gavin’s voice was smooth as butter.
    Rosie merely smiled in reply. If you think I’m gonna say the same about you, sunshine, you’ve another think coming.
    Gavin leaned slowly back in his chair, never taking his eyes off her. Feeling self-conscious, Rosie turned her head and stole a discreet glance around the room. Soft jazz music was playing, and there were candles and orchids on every table. The place was very tasteful – very Gavin.
    “Not knowing too much about you, Rosie, I’d no idea what your eating preferences were,” Gavin began. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred to go for hot and spicy, or whether you were more of a sushi lady. So I decided to play it safe. I figured an English girl had to like English food. And as far as I know, this is one of the best places in London for English.” He was still looking at her, a composed, perfect smile on his face.
    Suddenly Rosie couldn’t resist the temptation. “There’s just one problem.” She looked at him directly. For a split second, she saw a flash of consternation pass across his eyes.
    He frowned, his mouth still set in its smile. “Oh?”
    “I’m not English.” For the first time since they’d met, Rosie knew she had the upper hand. She guessed it might not be for long, but it was a moment to savour. Gavin looked at her questioningly. Was it her imagination or was he feeling ever so slightly embarrassed? Served him right for jumping to conclusions. It was Rosie’s turn to lean coolly back in her chair. “I’m Irish,” she said simply.
    Gavin shook his head, still smiling. “My apologies, Rosie. Your accent gave nothing away.”
    “I’ve lived in England most of my life,” Rosie countered, her confidence beginning to grow slightly. “But I can assure you, I am one hundred per cent Irish.”
    Gavin began to nod, an expression of amusement on his face. “I see,” he said at length. “So tell me – what do young Irish ladies like to eat?”
    Rosie was quiet for a few moments. For someone so charming, there was something incredibly irritating about Gavin at times. Before she had time to think, a bizarre notion flashed through her mind. She suddenly found herself leaning forward and looking him straight in the eyes. “Ever heard of Jack and the Beanstalk?”
    Gavin looked nonplussed.
    Rosie took a deep breath. Oh shoot. I’ve started so I’ll finish.
    “ Fee, fi, fo, fum … ” she growled in a low voice that she hardly recognised as her own, “ I smell the blood of an Englishman . Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll g-r-i-n-d his bones to make my bread.”
    Gavin looked momentarily shocked. Not that Rosie perceived he’d taken the threat seriously. It was more, she suspected, that he’d never dated a girl who recited fairy stories at the dinner table. For Rosie herself, it was time for a horrible reality check. Where had all that come from? He probably thought she was completely bonkers now. Maybe this was the time to remind him that she worked with children. That while he spent his days doing grown-up things like pumping iron and Pilates, she spent hers knee deep in kids’ books and elbow deep in play dough. Trying to regain her composure, she sat back, smoothed her dress over her knees, and said, as breezily as she could and in her best Irish accent, “With Guinness of course. A good meal always warrants a Guinness.”
    For a few seconds there was an awful silence. Gavin looked puzzled at first. Then a quizzical half-smile began to play around his mouth. After a few moments, he threw his head back and began to laugh quietly to himself. Rosie wasn’t quite sure what to do next.
    “Well, that’s a new chat up line on me, Rosie,” he said at last, straightening up in his chair. “You’re not part of a paramilitary