But flings didn’t want to meet your grandmother, did they?
“After you,” Nathan said, standing aside so she could walk up the flagstone path. Chloe gave him a quick glare before trudging up to the porch, aware of his footsteps on the stones just behind her. She gave Grandmillie a matching glare before turning to say, “Grandmillie, this is Nathan Trainor. Nathan, my grandmother, Millicent Russell.”
As Nathan shook her grandmother’s hand, Chloe could only be glad it wasn’t with the same hand he’d slid under her skirt earlier. “I’ve been hoping to meet you, Mrs. Russell.”
“We’ll see about that,” Grandmillie said giving him a penetrating look. “I appreciate your giving my granddaughter a ride home, Mr. Trainor.”
“Call me Nathan, please. I enjoy her company.”
Chloe caught her breath, but Nathan’s voice was clear of any innuendo. He smiled down at the older woman as he waited for Grandmillie to make her way into the house.
Chloe followed her grandmother, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t subject Nathan to an embarrassing interrogation. The scones were a bad sign, because it meant they’d have to sit down in order to eat the warm, crumbly pastries with clotted cream and jam. As they walked into the living room, the fragrance of Grandmillie’s baking wafted around them, making Chloe salivate in spite of her nervousness. She’d worked up a considerable appetite in the Rolls.
Nathan’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. “I’d follow that aroma to the ends of the earth,” he said.
“Don’t exaggerate, young man,” Grandmillie said, but Chloe could hear the gratification in her voice. “The proof is not in the smell, but the taste.”
“So it is,” Nathan said, casting a wicked glance at Chloe.
She jabbed him with her elbow, taking satisfaction in his barely perceptible wince.
Grandmillie directed them into the dining area, where the table was covered with an embroidered linen tablecloth and set with the good china, as always. She’d put on a full English tea, along with a decanter of some golden liquor and tiny stemmed glasses. Nathan helped her into the chair at the head of the table. When he was behind her pushing in the chair, Grandmillie caught Chloe’s eye and winked.
That wasn’t going to get her grandmother out of a talking-to about ambushing Chloe like this.
“Chloe, the scones are warming in the oven. I’ll pour while you bring them in.” Grandmillie hooked her cane on the table. “Nathan, you sit here to my right.”
Chloe walked into the kitchen and stopped to take a deep breath. Atop the pristine countertops, a linen-lined basket and a well-polished silver tray awaited the scones.
She took another breath, trying to calm the jangle of her nerves. She grabbed the dish towel hanging on its hook and rubbed it over her damp palms before folding it into a hot pad and opening the oven. A cloud of hot, scone-scented air billowed around her when she reached in to retrieve them.
As she piled the scones in the basket, she listened to Grandmillie and Nathan exchange small talk about sugar, milk, and the offer of port. She emerged from the kitchen to find Nathan bent attentively toward her grandmother as she poured a glass of the fortified wine for him. He accepted the delicate crystal, holding it in his long fingers as though it were as fragile as a Fabergé egg.
“A drop of port?” Grandmillie asked her when Chloe slid the tray onto the table.
“Yes, please.” She was tempted to tell her grandmother to make it a double.
Chloe took the stemmed glass and carried it to her seat to the left of her grandmother, who was directing the serving of the scones. Even with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his hair in disarray, Nathan radiated authority and control as he distributed scones and tea, his attention focused on following Grandmillie’s instructions. His manner toward Chloe was that of an old friend without even a hint of sexual interest. She heaved a sigh of relief.
After they’d sampled the scones, and Nathan had paid Grandmillie extravagant but well-deserved compliments on her baking, the conversation veered into dangerous territory.
“So,” Grandmillie said, giving Nathan an assessing look, “I hear you had a pretty bad case of the flu. How are you feeling now?”
“Fully recovered,” he said. “Your granddaughter has a healing touch.”
Chloe considered kicking his ankle, but once again he kept all insinuation out of his voice.
“I imagine your Dr. Cavill isn’t happy that you’re back at work so soon,” Grandmillie said.
Nathan chuckled as he took a sip of the port. “And he lets me know about it. That’s the problem with having an old friend as your doctor.”
“Did he help you develop your computer battery?”
“Ben?” Nathan looked startled. “No, I had a hard time even getting him to play video games with me. He was always rescuing injured animals while I fooled around with electronics.”