‘I was a little creased.’
‘You look beautiful.’ He smiles, nearly making me pass out at the sight of it, that lovely dimple making a rare appearance.
‘Thank you,’ I breathe.
‘My pleasure.’ He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and even though mine are firmly set on his, I know Nan and George are watching us.
‘Wine?’ Nan asks, interrupting our moment and distracting Miller’s eyes from mine. I’m instantly resentful.
‘Please, allow me.’ Miller rises and my gaze rises with him, my eyes seeming to lift for ever until his body has straightened. He doesn’t lean across the table to reach for the wine. No, he steps out and circles, collecting the wine from the ice bucket and standing on my grandmother’s right side to pour.
‘Thank you very much.’ Nan flashes George a wide-eyed, excited stare, and then turns her navy blues onto me. She’s getting way too excited, just like I knew she would, and it’s playing heavily on my mind for the brief moments that I’m distracted from Miller. Like right now when Nan is beaming at me, so elated by our guest’s presence and impeccable manners.
Miller makes his way around the table, filling George’s glass too, before he reaches me. He doesn’t ask me if I’d like some, he just goes right ahead and pours, despite knowing damn well that I’ve politely declined all alcohol when it’s been offered to me previously. I’m not going to pretend that he’s ignorant to it. He’s too smart – way, way too smart.
‘Right.’ George stands as Miller takes his seat. ‘I’ll do the honours.’ He takes the carving knife and starts to neatly slice through Nan’s masterpiece. ‘Josephine, this looks spectacular.’
‘It really does,’ Miller agrees, taking a sip of his wine and replacing it, his fingers scissoring and resting on the base of the glass, the crystal stem towering from between his middle and index finger. I study his resting hand closely, concentrating hard, waiting for it.
And there it is. It’s minuscule, but he shifts the glass a very tiny bit to the right. It’s probably barely noticeable to anyone except my scrutinising stare, and I smile as I raise my eyes, finding him watching me studying him.
He cocks his head, his eyes narrowing but twinkling wildly. ‘What?’ he mouths, drawing my attention to his lips. The bastard licks them, prompting me to make a grab for my glass and take a sip – anything to distract me. It’s not until I swallow that I realise what I’ve done, the unaccustomed taste making me shudder as it slides down my throat. My glass hits the table a bit too harshly, and I know Miller has just glanced at me curiously.
A piece of beef Wellington lands on my plate. ‘Help yourself to potatoes and carrots, Livy,’ Nan says, holding her plate up for George to transfer some crumbly pastry to. ‘Let’s fatten you up.’
I spoon some carrots and potatoes onto my plate before putting some on Miller’s. ‘I don’t need fattening up.’
‘You could gain a few pounds,’ Miller declares, pulling my incredulous face back to him as George finishes his plate off with the Wellington. ‘Just an observation.’
‘Thank you, Miller,’ Nan huffs smugly, raising a glass to toast their agreement. ‘She’s always been skinny.’
‘I’m slender, not skinny,’ I argue, lobbing Miller a warning look and getting a hint of a smile. In a very juvenile fit of revenge, I discreetly reach over and casually start twisting his wine glass by the stem, pulling it a fraction towards me. ‘Is that nice?’ I ask, nodding at his forkful of beef.
‘It’s delicious,’ he confirms, placing his knife perfectly perpendicular with the edge of the table, and then resting his hand over mine, slowly removing it and repositioning his glass. He picks his knife back up and resumes with his dinner. ‘The best Wellington I’ve tasted, Mrs Taylor.’
‘Nonsense!’ Nan blushes, a rarity, but my heart’s nemesis is making my nan’s heart flutter, too. ‘It was very easy.’
‘It didn’t look it,’ George grumbles. ‘You were flapping all afternoon, Josephine.’