Page 35 of Best Laid Plans

‘Yes,’ she said quickly before he could find the right words.

Will swallowed. ‘Okay, then. See you at seven.’

He strolled back into the kitchen, body on fire, affecting a nonchalance he was far from feeling.

‘I won’t be home for dinner this evening,’ he told his parents.

His mother smiled. ‘So you’re going out? That’s nice, dear. It’s good to see you catching up with your old friends.’ She was always happy when she thought he was seeing someone. She’d never given up hope of more grandchildren.

Will’s father looked more puzzled than pleased. This was the longest stretch his son had spent at home since he left all those years ago. Will knew they were both surprised, and expecting that he would take off again at a moment’s notice.

But Gina and Tom’s babies were to be christened as soon as Mattie and Jake returned from their honeymoon, so it was an excellent excuse for him to stay on.

As he tackled the remainder of his bacon and eggs he wondered what his parents would think if they knew he plannedto help Lucy McKentry to become pregnant, before he headed away again.

Half an hour before Will’s expected arrival, Lucy’s kitchen looked like a crime site, splattered from end to end with tomato puree and spilt milk, eggshells and flour.

She wanted everything to be so perfect for tonight and she’d actually had a brand new, whizz-bang stove installed. She’d even taken a whole afternoon off work to get this dinner ready for Will.

So far, however, the only part of the meal that looked edible was the pineapple poached in rum syrup, which was precisely one half of the dessert.

How on earth had she thought she could manage stewed fruit and a baked custard as well as lasagne? She’d never been much of a cook and these dishes were so fiddly.

But now –thank heavens– everything was finally in the oven, although she still had to clean up the unholy mess and have a shower and change her clothes and put on makeup and set the table. She’d meant to hunt in the garden for flowers for the table as well, but the dinner preparations had taken her far too long.

She was never going to be ready in time.

Guys never noticed flowers anyway.

In a hectic whirl she dashed about the kitchen, throwing rubbish into plastic bags, wiping bench tops and spills on the floor, hurling everything else pell-mell into the dishwasher to be stacked again properly later.

Later.

Yikes, she mustn’t think about that.

The only good thing about being so frantically busy was that it had helped her to not dwell too deeply on the actual reason for this dinner. The merest thought of what was supposed to happenafterthe meal set off explosions inside her, making her feel like a string of firecrackers at Chinese New Year.

Hastily Lucy showered, slathering her skin with her favourite jasmine scented gel and checking that her waxed legs were still silky and smooth.

Her hair was short, so she simply towelled it dry, threw in a little styling product, and let it do its own thing.

She put on a dress. She spent her working life in khaki jeans and she didn’t wear dresses very often, but this one was pretty – a green and white floral slip with shoestring straps and tiny frills around the low V neckline. It suited her. She felt good in it.

A couple of squirts of scent, a dab of lip gloss, a flourish with the mascara brush –

A truck rumbled to a growling halt outside.

Lucy froze.

Her reflection in the bedroom mirror blushed and her skin flashed hot and cold. Frenzied butterflies beat frantic wings in her stomach.

Firm footsteps sounded on the front path and her legs became distinctly wobbly. This was crazy.

It’s only Will, not Jack the Ripper.

Unfortunately, this thought wasn’t as calming as it should have been.

Concentrate on the meal. First things first. One step at a time.

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