Their Engagement is Announced

by Carole Mortimer

  And she made almost as much noise clearing away from dinner as she had when preparing it! Who the hell did Griffin think he was? He had no right to question her relationship with Charles, and as for Sam—they simply didn’t have a romantic relationship.

  Sam…!

  He was meant to be calling for her here tomorrow evening at seven-thirty!

  She sat down heavily on one of the kitchen stools. Twenty-four hours ago her life had been calm and uncomplicated—boring, even, she inwardly acknowledged. The house had been feeling so empty since she’d been living here on her own. Now she not only had a male house guest—for an indefinite period!—but she also had a date tomorrow evening with another man. A man who was calling at the house for her. And Griffin, being Griffin, would make sure he was well in evidence when that happened!

  Uncomplicated! She felt as if her life had been violated, taken over. And, loving Griffin as she did, she couldn’t see any end to the torment…

  ‘Wakey, wakey, Izzy. Rise and shine! And it is shine too; it’s a beautiful day outside.’ The bedroom curtains were thrown back to accompany this last announcement, that bright sunshine at once illuminating the bedroom.

  And blinding Dora where she lay groggily back against the pillows in her bed.

  Griffin!

  Not only had he invaded her bedroom at goodness knows what ungodly hour, but he was cheerful doing it!

  Dora was not a morning person. When her father was alive the two of them had barely spoken to each other in the mornings, both knowing what needed to be done and getting on with it. And that regime had continued quite smoothly for Dora since she had been on her own.

  Not any more, apparently!

  ‘This is amazing.’ Griffin continued talking at her lack of a response. ‘You must have hundreds of unicorns in here!’

  Her collection of unicorns! And Griffin was right; there were hundreds of them. She had been collecting them since she was a little girl, an indulgence her mother had approved of—although it had been tacitly agreed between them from the beginning that these beautiful mythical beasts would remain in her bedroom, where her father wouldn’t have to be bothered by them. And so no one other than her mother and herself—despite what she might have said to Griffin the evening before, concerning having men upstairs in the house—had ever seen her collection of unicorns. Until Griffin…

  And she wished he hadn’t seen them, either. These unicorns, mythical and beautiful, were an indication that Dora Baxter wasn’t as no-nonsense and practical as she liked to appear to be. The very last thing she wanted Griffin, of all people, to know!

  The sooner she diverted his attention away from the existence of the unicorns, the better!

  She rolled over with a protesting groan, taking the sheet with her, looking up at Griffin through half-closed lids, the light still too bright for her to focus properly.

  He had obviously been up some time, was dressed and freshly shaved by the look of his healthily glowing face. But he didn’t have any toiletries with him, least of all a razor…

  ‘My razor isn’t meant for a man’s stubble,’ she told him in a disgruntled voice, realising that must have been what he had used for his shave.

  ‘And a good morning to you too!’ Griffin grinned good-naturedly as he dropped down on the end of her bed. ‘Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look in the morning?’ he added teasingly.

  Dora looked at him warily. ‘Is this a trick question…?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he dismissed lightly. ‘I was merely going to tell you they were lying if they had!’ He grinned again.

  Dora looked up at him through jaundiced eyes. ‘Has anyone ever told you what a pain it is to be woken by someone as cheerful as you in the morning?’ She struggled to sit up, which wasn’t easy with Griffin sitting on the bedclothes, especially as she had every intention of keeping the sheet in front of her for protection. ‘What time is it?’ She couldn’t focus on her bedside clock yet, her eyes still gritty from lack of sleep.

  ‘Seven-thirty,’ he told her unconcernedly, shaking his head mockingly as she groaned at the earliness of the hour. ‘I never figured you for a late sleeper, Izzy!’

  ‘Then you figured wrong, didn’t you?’ she snapped irritably, pushing back the auburn curtain of her hair. ‘Any time before eight o’clock in the morning and I consider it to still be night. It’s only on special occasions—’

  ‘And my being here isn’t special?’ Griffin put in tauntingly.

  ‘Your being here is many things, Griffin,’ she sighed, giving him a scathing glance, ‘but special isn’t one of them! I was referring to birthdays and Christmas.’ Although it didn’t surprise her in the least that Griffin was an early riser; he was hyperactive most of the time! ‘Where’s the coffee?’ She yawned tiredly.

  He grinned at her again. ‘You may not be beautiful in the morning, Izzy,’ he chuckled. ‘But you’re certainly good entertainment value!’

  ‘Thanks,’ she dismissed uninterestedly. ‘Now where’s the coffee?’

  ‘I can’t get down the stairs without help—remember?—let alone get back up again with a cup of coffee in my hand.’ He stood up with the help of his crutches. ‘Otherwise I would willingly have brought you coffee in bed.’ And joined you there, his expression seemed to imply.

  Dora was much more awake now, and the more fully awake she became, the less she liked Griffin’s presence in the sanctuary of her bedroom. Beautiful or not, the two of them were still alone here, and Griffin was irrepressible—in every way!

  ‘If you would like to wait outside for me, I’ll get dressed and make my own coffee.’ As she did every other morning. ‘And then you can explain exactly why it is you’ve woken me up this early,’ she added warningly.

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Griffin nodded mockingly, making his way awkwardly to the door.

  There was much more to this cohabiting than she had realised, Dora decided disgruntedly as she washed and dressed. She had never lived away from home, had no experience of having to live with anyone other than her immediate family, and they had always been in tune with each other enough to respect the other’s space. Griffin didn’t even seem to realise she needed space, let alone respect the fact!

  As if to confirm that, she almost fell over him as she came out of her bedroom, finding him leaning against the wall directly outside.

  The withering look she gave him would have been enough to silence any other man, but not the unstoppable Griffin.

  ‘The butterfly emerges,’ he drawled with barely suppressed humour as he straightened in preparation for following her down the stairs.

  Dora decided then and there that she wasn’t even going to speak to him again until she had prepared and drunk her first cup of coffee. A few days ago she had found the house lonely and empty—now she found it much too full!

  ‘Now…’ She sighed her satisfaction a few minutes later, taking a sip of the rich coffee she had made for them both, Griffin having sat and watched her every movement with unconcealed humour. ‘What could possibly be so urgent you had to wake me at this ridiculous hour?’ she asked.

  He bit his lip to stop himself from grinning once again. ‘You really weren’t joking about that, were you?’

  She raised auburn brows. ‘What on earth made you think that I was?’

  ‘Never mind.’ He shook his head. ‘I woke you at this ‘‘ridiculous hour’’ because we have to go to my apartment so I can pick up a few things, and then you have to drive me to the studio. I’m filming at the moment, remember?’ he reminded her as she looked blank.

  He had told her he was, yes, which was the reason he could only help her at the shop in the evenings. But surely with his badly sprained ankle…?

  ‘Won’t you have to delay that for a while?’ She frowned.

  ‘You obviously aren’t familiar with television studios, Izzy. Or television companies, come to that,’ he drawled. ‘They don’t wait for time or tide, let alone any man!’

  Dora still frowned.
‘But surely the programme revolves around you?’

  ‘Exactly.’ He nodded. ‘And I can’t let a little thing like a sprained ankle delay filming.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘The minutes are ticking away, Izzy,’ he warned, standing up after finishing his own coffee. ‘And we do have to go to my apartment first. I need to change and pick up some things—like clothes and a razor,’ he added pointedly.

  Dora had no wish to go to his apartment, let alone drive him to the studio for filming. She had become too embroiled in his life already, and had no wish to become any more involved. Loving him as she did, her life was going to be empty enough after he left without that!

  ‘Can’t the studio send a car for you?’ She voiced her own reluctance to make the drive. ‘With you unable to help out at the shop any more I have some things of my own I need to sort out today.’ Like finding someone to finish the rest of the work!

  ‘No, they can’t send a car for me, Izzy,’ Griffin bit out with controlled impatience. ‘I don’t ask for superstar status, and they don’t offer it. Besides, have you forgotten I sustained my injury while—?’

  ‘—helping me,’ Dora finished wearily. ‘We’ve been through that one already, Griffin,’ she sighed. ‘I accept responsibility— I just don’t expect it to last for ever!’

  He looked at her wordlessly for several seconds, and then he relaxed. ‘You really are crabby in the mornings, aren’t you?’ He sounded amused again.

  More so this morning than usual, she inwardly acknowledged. And with due reason. She had lain awake for hours last night after going to bed, unable to sleep for thinking of Griffin in the house with her. In fact, when he had woken her, half an hour ago, it had felt as if she had only just gone to sleep!

  ‘I am.’ She nodded, not even attempting to defend herself, getting up to rinse their coffee cups. ‘I’ll just get my jacket and bag.’ And her shattered equilibrium, she hoped!

  Snap out of it, Dora, she told herself as she went to collect her things. If she carried on behaving like this Griffin would guess something was wrong, that something inside her had changed. And if he should ever guess it was because she was in love with him, she would never be able to face him again!

  ‘Now, isn’t this cosy?’ Griffin turned to grin at her once they were in the car and on their way. ‘It’s almost domesticated.’

  She gave a rueful smile. ‘I can’t ever imagine you as domesticated!’

  ‘Can’t you?’ He sobered. ‘But I can assure you, I’m completely house-trained.’

  Dora’s smile faded too at this remark. ‘You no longer have a house to go to,’ she reminded him softly.

  Griffin gave another shrug. ‘My mother will come around—eventually. And, in the meantime, I have your house to stay in.’

  That was what she was afraid of. But he couldn’t stay with her indefinitely. For one thing the neighbours would no doubt start speculating about the fact that a man had moved in with her only weeks after her father’s death. And for another she simply didn’t want Griffin that close to her. Even on a temporary basis!

  ‘Besides,’ Griffin continued dismissively, ‘I haven’t lived in a house for years. Even my apartment looks as if I’ve just moved in or I’m in the process of moving out!’

  Dora knew exactly what he meant by that remark when they arrived at his apartment. There were packing boxes, either in the process of being unpacked or packed, standing in the sitting room.

  It was an enormous flat for one person, with at least two bedrooms if not more, a kitchen and a bathroom leading off the main room. But all of them had that same half-lived-in-look. Perhaps with Griffin’s constant travelling that was inevitable. Although Dora knew she couldn’t have lived in this almost temporary way herself for any length of time…

  ‘How long have you lived here?’ she couldn’t resist asking as she frowned across at Griffin.

  He shrugged. ‘I took the place on approval about a year ago, and brought all my stuff in.’ He indicated the packing boxes. ‘It’s still only on approval!’

  Which was rather sad, really, Dora thought. She had lived in the same house all her life, had put down roots there—and collected her unicorns! If she ever had to move it would take her weeks to pack everything up into boxes; Griffin looked as if he could do it in a couple of hours!

  But he had said a year ago…about the time of Charles’s death…

  ‘I moved in here just after Charles died.’ Griffin seemed to respond to her thoughts. ‘Although at the time I thought— Well, never mind what I thought.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’ He hobbled towards one of the bedrooms. ‘Make yourself at home,’ he invited dryly.

  As he, the occupant of the apartment for the last year, didn’t seem to have done that, Dora didn’t see how she could be expected to do so in a matter of minutes!

  But she was drawn towards the over-full bookcase that ran the whole way along one wall—over-full because, once the shelves had become full, Griffin had started to pile the books on the carpeted floor in front of the bookcase.

  Most of the books looked well read, including several of the titles Dora had acquired for him. She couldn’t help wondering how, with his very busy lifestyle, Griffin ever found the time to read. But he obviously did. And enjoyed doing so.

  At last Dora had found something the two of them had in common!

  ‘Ready.’ Griffin appeared in the bedroom doorway, having slung his overnight bag over one shoulder so that he could still continue to use both crutches.

  Dora hurried over to take the bag from him, anxious now to be on her way. She didn’t want to find anything the two of them had in common; it was easier, much easier, to keep telling herself the two of them were completely unsuited, and dismiss her feelings towards him in that way.

  ‘Let’s go, then,’ she bit out, much more sharply than she had intended, and received a narrow-eyed look from Griffin.

  She chose to ignore him and turned away. She didn’t want to know about Griffin’s life, let alone get caught up with curiosity about it.

  Which was the reason why, when they arrived at the television studio half an hour later, she refused to go inside with him!

  She shook her head, not moving out from behind the wheel of the car. ‘What time do you want me to come back for you?’

  Griffin bent down to look in the car at her. ‘Not star-struck, Izzy?’ he drawled derisively.

  ‘Not in the least,’ she dismissed dryly. ‘Just tell me what time to come back.’

  ‘About five o’clock should do it,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘Are you sure you won’t come inside? It’s really quite interesting—’

  ‘Griffin!’ a female voice cried out concernedly. ‘What on earth have you done? Oh, you poor darling!’ The young, leggy brunette who had been making her way down the steps that led into the studio stopped by the car as she saw Griffin was on crutches. ‘Can I help you inside?’ She looked up at him with limpid blue eyes.

  Griffin shot Dora a conspiratorial wink before turning to look at the other woman. ‘How kind of you, Angela,’ he murmured appreciatively. ‘But weren’t you just leaving?’

  The woman gave him a dazzling smile. ‘I’m more than happy to help you, Griffin,’ she assured him throatily. ‘Have you paid off the taxi?’ She glanced uninterestingly at Dora as she sat behind the wheel.

  Taxi? Dora inwardly echoed the word angrily. This woman thought she was a taxi driver? Not only was it a damned cheek, but it also implied that she simply didn’t feel Dora was attractive enough to be anything else in Griffin’s life. Wonderful!

  ‘I’ll come back for you about five o’clock, then— Mr Sinclair,’ she bit out caustically, moving over to close the passenger door, almost shutting Griffin’s fingers in it where he leant against the door for extra support.

  Dora didn’t even glance his way again before putting the car into gear and accelerating away, her face stonily averted as she did so.

  The nerve. The cheek. T
he absolute damned cheek!

  She gave herself an impatient glance in the driving mirror. Did she look like a taxi driver? What did taxi drivers look like…? All shapes, sizes and sexes, as far as she could remember. But even so! And Griffin had just stood there grinning at the mistake, damn him. No doubt enjoying himself. At her expense. Again.

  She gave a rueful shake of her head, relaxing slightly. In the broadest sense of the word, she was Griffin’s taxi this morning. As she would be again this evening.

  But she had several things to organise before then, she realised briskly. The most important of those being to find someone to complete the work at the shop. At the current rate of progress, she might be able to re-open by Christmas!

  By five-fifteen, sitting outside the studio waiting for Griffin to appear, Dora was slightly irritated.

  By five-thirty she was very irritated.

  By five-forty-five she had passed irritation and was well on her way to anger.

  By six o’clock she was angry.

  And by six-fifteen she was absolutely furious.

  So much so that she stormed out of the car, up the steps, and burst into the reception area. Griffin hadn’t even bothered to send a message out to her once he’d realised he was going to be delayed, let alone an apology! He—

  ‘Can I help you?’ the young receptionist enquiring brightly from behind her desk.

  Dora drew in a deeply controlling breath, although her eyes still glittered deeply grey in her agitation. ‘I’m here to collect Mr Sinclair, and—’

  ‘Miss Baxter?’ the other woman put in smoothly. ‘He asked me to have you taken to the studio as soon as you arrived. If you would just take a seat for a moment, I’ll—’

  ‘Would you please inform Mr Sinclair that I shall be leaving in fifteen minutes? With or without him!’ She spoke pleasantly enough; after all, it wasn’t this woman’s fault that Griffin was inconsiderate and selfish. ‘If he’s later than that, I suggest he call himself a taxi!’ She turned on her heel and marched back outside to her car.