‘You eat it on toast here? Never tried that but I’m game for anything.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ The pop of a wicked smile told her she’d fallen for his warped sense of humour again. ‘I don’t cook much these days and, on second thoughts, it struck me that you would probably consider beans on toast a starter rather than a main course.’
‘You’ve got me intrigued.’
Laura’s face burned. Men were never ‘intrigued’ by her.
‘What sort of beans do you eat on toast anyway? Pinto? Navy? Lima?’
‘Heinz.’ She rifled in the cupboard and thrust a tin in his face. ‘I’ve never heard of the others.’
‘Your education’s sorely lacking, then.’ His dramatic head shake made her laugh in spite of herself. ‘But we’ve got time to remedy that.’
The doorbell saved her.
* * *
He guessed she wasn’t an eating with chopsticks out of the boxes sort of woman and rummaged around the kitchen for a couple of plates and some cutlery. He should never have agreed to Polly’s request. The English weather was as crappy as he remembered, he’d bet his life savings Johnny would be more shocked than pleased to see him and Ms Laura Williams disturbed him worse than a tornado in a wheat field.
‘Really?’ Swinging a bag in each hand she smiled the table. ‘I thought single men ate straight from the takeaway box.’
‘I reckon we both made assumptions.’ Her eyes widened and he added another mistake to the list.They’re not a muddy-brown, idiot. Try creamy milk chocolate laced with rich golden caramel if you’re gonna be accurate.
‘Let’s eat while it’s still hot.’ The wobble in her voice disturbed Hunter. He wasn’t vain but he also wasn’t dumb. Her swift appraisal of his improved appearance sent up red warning flags. ‘I ordered a selection. Egg rolls, tempura shrimp, sweet and sour pork, spicy Szechuan chicken, vegetable fried rice and my favourite Mongolian beef.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Beer?’ She grabbed two bottles from a tiny fridge no bigger than the ones usually seen in American hotel rooms and passed one across the table to him.
‘Thanks. I’m starved.’
‘Didn’t the coach make any stops so you could get something to eat?’
‘Nope, only to pick up folk, but I guess most knew that and they came prepared.’ He didn’t expand on his amusement at the foil-wrapped sandwiches and thermos flasks produced by most of his fellow travellers. ‘My seat mate forced a slice of his mom’s fruit cake on me and it wasn’t bad. Damn sight better than the nasty ones we have at Christmas.’ Helping himself to some of everything on offer, he dug in. ‘That hot chicken sure hits the spot.’
‘Good.’
They ate in contented silence and soon they’d both finished.
‘Help yourself to seconds.’ Laura gestured towards the leftovers.
‘No thanks. It’ll do for breakfast.’
‘Breakfast? I . . .’
‘Gotcha.’ Hunter chuckled. ‘Isn’t it supposed to be the single man go-to, along with cold pizza?’
‘Very funny, I’m sure. He watched her stiffen with annoyance. Their sense of humour obviously wasn’t on the same wavelength. ‘So tell me what your connection is with Johnny? Polly gave the impression you two were friends from when he lived in London growing up.’
‘Yeah, we were in school together for a couple of years when my dad’s company transferred him over here for a while.’ The half-truth tripped out. Leaving his response there he faked a yawn and hoped she’d get the hint.
‘Sorry. You must be dead on your feet.’
‘Yep, I sure am. Seems to be catchin’ up with me. I could promise I won’t be as grouchy in the morning but you might not recognise the difference.’
‘We’ll see, won’t we?’
‘I’ll help you clear up dinner first.’
