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‘An interview for a newspaper?’

‘Yes, about the opening of London’s new elite club.’ He starts loading the dishwasher. ‘Six tomorrow evening. Would you like to come with me?’

My spirits lift to stupid heights. ‘I thought you didn’t mix business with pleasure.’ I arch an eyebrow at him, and he arches one right back, making me grin.

‘Would you like to come?’ he repeats.

I’m smiling properly now. ‘Where is it?’

‘At Ice. I’ll take you for dinner after.’ He casts me a sideways glance. ‘It’s rude not to accept a gentleman’s offer to wine and dine you,’ he says seriously. ‘Ask your grandmother.’

I laugh and start to collect the dishes from the table. ‘Offer accepted.’

‘Jolly good, Miss Taylor.’ There’s humour in his tone, and it widens my smile. ‘May I suggest you call your grandmother?’

‘You may.’ I slide the last of the dishes on the counter, leaving Miller to reshuffle and load. ‘Which drawer will I find my things in?’

‘Second from bottom. And be quick. I have a habit that I want to lose myself with under the sheets.’ He’s serious and stern . . . and I couldn’t care less.

Chapter 21

I drifted off to the calming tone of Miller humming sweetly in my ear, kissing my hair repeatedly and surrounding me in his thing. I know he got out of bed to pick up his boxers and shirt that I left strewn on the floor, but he was soon back, cuddling up behind me.

When I woke, he was already up, showered and suited with his side of the bed made. I lay there for a few moments, thinking how me entering his life has played havoc with his perfectly assembled and organised world before I was ordered to get up and get dressed. With a lack of other clothes, I was delivered home in my freshly laundered dress, much to Nan’s delight.

After showering, texting Gregory to advise him that I’m alive, and readying myself for work, I dart down the stairs with only twenty minutes to get my happy arse to the bistro. Nan’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, her cheerful face a pleasure to see, but the diary in her hand, not so much.

‘Ask Miller about dinner,’ she orders as I slip my denim jacket on. She flicks the pages of her diary and runs her wrinkled finger down the dates. ‘I can do tonight, but I can’t do tomorrow or Wednesday. Tonight’s cutting it a little fine, but I have time to pop to Harrods. Or we could do Saturday . . . oh, no we can’t. I have a tea and cakes meeting.’

‘Miller has an interview this evening.’

Her old navy blues fly up in surprise. ‘An interview?’

‘Yes, for the new bar he’s opened.’

‘Miller owns a bar? Goodness me!’ She snaps her diary shut. ‘You mean to say he’ll be in the paper?’

‘Yes.’ I swing my satchel across my body. ‘He’s picking me up from work so I won’t be here for tea.’

‘How exciting! How about Saturday for dinner? I can rearrange my diary.’

It staggers me how my grandmother’s social life is more active than mine . . . or it was until recently. ‘I’ll ask him,’ I pacify her, opening the front door.

‘Call him now.’

I turn on a frown. ‘I’ll be seeing him later.’

‘No, no.’ She points to my satchel. ‘I need to know now. I’ll have to go shopping and call the community centre to rearrange the tea and cakes meeting. I can’t just fall into line with you and Miller.’

I inwardly laugh. ‘Let’s have dinner next week, then,’ I suggest, solving the problem immediately.

Her old, thin lips purse. ‘Make the call!’ she insists, prompting me to immediately dive into my bag for my phone. I can’t deny her the excitement, not now Miller and I seem to be on the same page.

‘Okay,’ I soothe, dialling Miller under her watchful eyes.

He answers in an instant. ‘Miller Hart,’ he says, all formal and businesslike.

I frown down the line. ‘Do you have my number stored?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then why are you answering like you don’t know who it is?’

‘Habit.’

I shake my head and glance up to see Nan frowning, too. ‘Are you available Saturday evening?’ I ask, feeling incredibly awkward under my grandmother’s observation. It’s times like now, when he’s reserved and clipped, that he defies the tender man who I’m faced with when he’s out of those suits and has me to himself.

‘Are you asking me on a date?’ I can hear a hint of amusement in his tone.

‘No, my nan is. She’d like you to come for dinner again.’ I feel like such a juvenile.

‘It would be my pleasure,’ he says. ‘I’ll bring my buns.’

I can’t help the burst of laughter that slips out, making Nan look offended. ‘Nan will be pleased.’

‘Who wouldn’t?’ he asks cockily. ‘See you after work, sweet girl.’

I disconnect the call and leave Nan in the hallway as I practically skip down the path from the house.

‘Well?’ she calls, as she follows me out.

‘You have a date!’

‘What was so funny?’

‘Miller’s bringing his buns!’ I shout back.

‘But I was going to make my pineapple upside-down cake!’

I laugh to myself, all the way to work.

‘I might need you on Sunday night, Livy,’ Del says towards the end of my shift. ‘Do you think you could help me out? Big event. I need as many hands as I can get.’