daughter had grown ten inches and had gone from being a sweet, slightly chubby five-feet-one twelve-year-old to a slender, leggy thirteen-year-old; still sweet but to his parental eye worryingly mature, with the sort of coltish good looks that had already drawn two offers of modelling contracts.
Draco was just relieved he hadn’t had to come the heavy parent over the latter; Josie had plans for her future that did not include becoming the face of anything.
‘Who is available?’ He glanced down and noticed for the first time that his daughter was holding a cocktail. He winced and blamed Eve for taking his eye off the ball. Just what was the woman’s problem? He slung a quick glance across the room and sure enough she was still acting as if she were at a wake, not a wedding reception. God, no wonder she had been bullied; she was one of those people who simply couldn’t blend into the background, and didn’t try either. She stood out in a room of a hundred—or in this case nearer five.
He reached for the drink. ‘I don’t think so, angel.’
‘You know something, Dad, you have serious trust issues. It’s only a mocktail.’ She turned the stick in the glass of brightly coloured but non-alcoholic contents and offered with a grin, ‘Try if you don’t believe me.’
His expressive lips twisted into a moue of distaste. ‘I’ll pass.’
‘So about Eve, Dad.’
He shook his head wryly.
About Eve
—it was more a case of a detour around Eve. She was an emotional storm. He caught his daughter’s look and said defensively, ‘What about Eve?’
‘I said she’s available.’
His daughter was teasing, but under her smiles was she really…? He wasn’t entirely sure, but one thing he was sure of was that this was a conversation he did not want to have.
‘Is that boy a friend of yours?’ He angled a narrow look towards the young man who was making his tipsy way across the dance floor towards his daughter. Recognising the warning, the kid abruptly changed direction.
‘Good try, Dad.’
‘Try at what?’
‘At changing the subject.’
‘What subject would that be?’
Josie rolled her eyes before directing a finger across the room to where Eve was standing. ‘She’s all alone and you should go and talk to her. Or are you scared?’ his daughter, who thought she knew what buttons to press, speculated innocently. The hell of it was that five times out of ten she did and he could see those odds narrowing as she got older.
‘I know a lot of men are scared of rejection,’ she added.
Draco, who didn’t have much experience of rejection, looked amused; women’s magazines had a lot to answer for. ‘So how do you know that men are scared of rejection?’
‘Clare told me.’
His half-smile faded. ‘Since when do you call your mother Clare?’ he asked sternly.
‘She asked me to—she says now that I’m taller than her being called Mum makes her feel old.’ Seeing his expression, Josie touched her father’s arm. ‘She can’t help it, you know. Some people are just—’
‘Self-centred and selfish.’ Draco frowned, regretting the bitter words the moment they were uttered. After the divorce he had been determined not to bad-mouth his ex-wife to their daughter and always felt guilty as hell when he failed. He did not want to be the sort of parent who used their kid as a bargaining chip and asked them to take sides.
‘Relax, Dad, you’re not telling me anything that I didn’t work out for myself years ago. So are you scared…? You’ve been staring at her all day—yes, Dad, you have. She is
the
Eve in Eve’s Temptation. Brains and beauty. Oh, before you say it—’
‘What was I about to say?’
‘Beauty isn’t all about long legs and boobs, Father.’
Always good to know that your daughter thought you were shallow and sexist. ‘I am aware of that.’
‘And you obviously fancy her so don’t let me cramp your style. Go for it, Dad.’
‘Thank you very much.’
His daughter
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